


Ease My Mind

by nerdy-flower (baconnegg)



Series: Scenes from a Sunny Winter Town [3]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brief Smut, Canon divergent in places, Did I mention they're dorks because hot damn, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Extremely Sanji-centric but the kid needs a hug right now, Fluff, Genderfluid Character, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Stuff, Multi, Slice of Life, Spoilers up to chapter 852, The world's a hard place have 25k of two soft boys fumbling their way towards the future, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 10:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10016342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baconnegg/pseuds/nerdy-flower
Summary: The Vinsmokes leave their scar, and Sanji has to learn to live with it and lean on the people who love him.Or; The road to marriage is paved with therapy, food, and talking about your feelings no matter how much you absolutely don't want to.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Good grief, this took a long time! Here it is, the third part of the trilogy, I hope you all enjoy it! 
> 
> Trigger warning for kidnapping, non-graphic physical/emotional violence, and brief suicidal ideation near the beginning, description of a panic attack, ongoing PTSD/mental health issues, internalized transphobia, and extremely poor self-talk throughout (I promise it gets brighter towards the middle, honest).

Sanji’s glad the Straw Hat House is staying intact for at least a little while longer, otherwise he might be tempted to weepiness at graduation and crying is a shitty look on him. 

The arts department takes the last ceremony slot, culinary majors included. Sitting in the sun in a black and yellow polyester gown, too far away from any of his friends to even wave is less sentimental and more aggravating, aside from the brief moment of hoots, hollers, and camera flashes when crosses the stage to grab his folders. The recessional music finally starts to play and he books it towards the front of the school, nearly trampling his seatmates on the way out. 

He jogs towards their established meeting spot by a clutch of pine trees, mood riding high. Nami, Vivi, and Chopper are milling about, clutching their folders from the previous day so everyone can hold their degrees in the group photo, even if only three of them are in their gowns. Zoro has his own tucked under his arm as he yanks Luffy out of other people’s shots while he rushes around trying to find his brothers in the crowd. Brook is still dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief while Robin and Franky tinker with the camera tripod and look on like proud parents. 

Sanji looks back, looking for but not expecting to find Usopp. Yasopp had managed to get a single day off between jobs to attend the ceremony, but he had to leave for another eighteen-hour flight almost immediately afterwards. They hadn’t physically seen each other in years, and the crowded, lengthy ceremony meant they only had a short time to actually talk. Sanji wouldn’t begrudge them a minute. Hopefully Yasopp was headed to a corner of the world with better Internet so they could have video calls for a while. 

Usopp’s not far behind, as it turns out. Diploma folder under his arm and a colourful gift bag clutched in his hand, his eyes on the cement path in front of him. Sanji stops and waits, noticing his runny nose and thin-pulled lips as he gets closer. “Hey, you okay?” 

“Huh? Oh I’m fine!” Usopp forces a smile, pitching his voice up. “Dad had to run or he wasn’t gonna make his flight in time. Wow, everybody’s here already? Awesome! Let’s take the photo and get out of these stupid things!” 

Sanji’s heart aches when he sees the touch of red in Usopp’s eyes. He reaches out and smooths the honour cords hanging over Usopp’s gown, already burning to the touch from the blazing June heat. “You did really well up there. I’m surprised you only tripped once.” 

“That was on purpose! A little comedy to lighten the mood, I come from a long line of entertainers, you know.” Usopp affects a haughty laugh, voice still catching a little. “God, we’re graduated. How weird is that? I don’t think I’m ready to be an adult.” 

Sanji snorts and leans in, brushing a quick kiss over Usopp’s forehead. “You’ll do great, you’ve already proven that.” 

Usopp’s cheeks flush adorably, and a breeze musses their carefully styled-back hair. He looks like he’s about to say something when a gruff voice cuts in beside them. “Make googly eyes later, eggplant. You’re holding everybody up.” 

“You’re the one who took forever and a day to hobble over here, you shitty geezer!” Sanji rounds on Zeff, who looks unimpressed and uncomfortable wearing the only suit he owns. 

“Sanji! Stop fighting and get in the photo!” Luffy shouts, waving them over excitedly. “I’m starving, I wanna go eat soon!” 

“You ate an entire value bag of chips during the ceremony.” Zoro adds. “But hurry the hell up, both of you.” 

Sanji grumbles, but slips his hand into Usopp’s and runs over. Pressed into the middle of their friends as they pose for a hundred ridiculous pictures taken by a dozen friends and family members, Sanji watches Usopp’s smile turn genuine and breathes a sigh of relief, feeling sure that things will turn out alright for all of them as long as they’re together. 

*** 

Oddly enough, going off on his own is what ends up turning things horribly, horribly wrong. 

Sanji catches an invitation to a culinary conference not long after graduation. Working as a line cook in the city, pinch-hitting as sous-chef during his short trips back to the Baratie, and it’s only a three-hour train ride away. Might as well jump on it and call it a vacation. He’d gone to this sort of thing before, when Zeff or his professors pushed him, and the boredom might be worth it if he could find someone to help finance his restaurant. Or at least net him a better-paying job. 

He goes alone, though Luffy tried to invite himself along. The international scale of it ends up being really interesting. He takes as many mental notes as he can, tucking them away to try and recreate some of what he sees back in his own kitchen. 

Then there’s a sweet, lovely young lady who seems to recognize him from an article and asks his opinion on her plans to open a bakery. He keeps his friendliness toned down a touch and makes an offhand comment about texting his boyfriend when they head out after the conference centre closes. He was still worried she’d get the wrong idea, but he can’t let her walk back to her apartment all alone. 

If only he’d taken a page out of Zoro’s barely-there manners. 

If only he’d stopped and thought for just a fucking second. Her barely-there accent. The street she led him down. If he’d just let himself remember- but then, he thought he was safe here. There was no reason for him to ever consider the possibility- 

Being hit doesn’t faze him, he’s only too happy to fight back and draw blood. But he’s collared when they lay out the when, where, and how of what they’ll do to Zeff, to all his friends, if he doesn’t come quietly. They’ve watched for months, maybe years, learned everything they needed to get him right where they wanted him. He lets them spirit him away. Not cooperating means harm to everyone he loved, and they take priority. Maybe he’ll be fine, maybe they’ll get caught somewhere along the way. 

Maybe he’ll never hear Usopp’s voice again. 

Pudding, whose sweetness now appears to be willful ignorance or brainwashing, cleans him up in the hotel bathroom and assures him everything will be fine once they’re married. It must have been her family who had enough of a foothold to charter a private plane. Spending so much time and money just to use him one last time, just to keep the family ties lined up nicely without any of them having to play house. Sanji wants to laugh, but he’s afraid he might never stop.

He’d escaped them as a child, with a little luck and some help from his slightly more sympathetic older sister. Surviving on street scraps and running, running as far as he could until he’d run through the open border, until his little legs couldn’t carry him anymore and someone finally caught him and carried him into social services. 

His blood had iced over with fear, but he knew enough to keep his mouth shut about who his parents were. He answered as few questions as possible while the authorities tried to track down an explanation. He’d been born to private doctors on retainer by the Vinsmokes, with no records to his name and no one looking for a child matching his description, the adults around him could only shrug helplessly and assume his parents were as homeless and out of luck as he was, or dead. He fought his foster father tooth and nail at first, pushing boundaries and waiting for them to break. But they never did, and he got a new name, a new life, a sense of safety and an assurance the past was just a bad dream. 

Much, much later he’d have a search history that probably raised a red flag on some security agency’s watch. The Vinsmokes and the Charlottes made most criminal factions look like playground bullies, verging on cult status with a variety of conspiracy websites dedicated to them. One thing was clear, anyone who tried to leave their fold vanished into thin air, and they had their hands in enough pockets to keep their records clean. They always got what they wanted.   
He’s finally allowed to contact his panicked friends and forced to blow them off, every word as cold as gunmetal. Saying he was happy to have found his family and had fallen in love with- recalling it is too painful. If he had been left alone at all, he might have taken his own life shortly after that. The hope that had saved his younger self was gone. The hurt and confusion on the other end of that phone call spelled the end for his chances. 

But thank God, thank whatever fucking entity was responsible for Monkey D. Luffy and his unbreakable trust and his bizarre string of connections. Sanji was never partial to all the details, and Luffy’s shit at explaining, but through his grandfather and his parents and the weird alcoholic old guy he called his uncle, he’d saved him. The rescue operation was sudden and violent, or so he was told. Reiju caught wind of it beforehand and on the day of, took Sanji and Pudding out on the premise of getting fitted for formalwear, only to stop at the nearest police station and hand them over. She turns herself in politely, wearing the cuffs like heavy bangles, and that’s the last Sanji sees of her. 

That’s twice she’s spared his life. He didn’t say thank you either time. 

After answering some questions for the investigators and being put in contact with a lawyer, Sanji is whisked off to a guarded hotel room to find Luffy and Nami anxiously awaiting him. Lack of privacy be damned, they all give in to hysterical, pained sobbing until Sanji’s throat is raw and his head is pounding. 

“Don’t go off with weirdo strangers ever again!” Luffy barks, finding his words first as tears and snot stream down his face. As if Sanji was a child, as if Luffy could ever be parental. Sanji tries to laugh, but it comes out as another sob. 

“They’d only let two of us come.” Nami says tearfully, clutching her phone in trembling hands. “I called and told everyone you’re okay b-but- Usopp, he’s never had a passport, and they wouldn’t rush him one in time. He’s a mess, can you-“ 

And his memories blur again. Painful video calls with everyone, sleeping out of complete exhaustion as the sun comes up, seemingly endless meetings with his kind, prim lawyer and investigators and constant, fearful nausea before he’s finally allowed to get on a plane and get the fuck away. 

There’s reporters at the airport, though the police escort tries to disperse them, even Luffy’s connections couldn’t keep the press away. But Sanji doesn’t fucking care because Luffy and Nami are at his back and Usopp’s arms are finally around him and Zeff’s hand manages to grip his shoulder before everyone else piles on.   
Usopp’s wheezing subsides after a moment, everyone pressed as close as they can be. Sanji puts his lips to his boyfriend’s ear and manages to whisper “Take me home.” 

*** 

The months afterward are long black spots disrupted by blindingly painful lapses of full awareness, but the lawyer assigned to him is a gift. She’s the top-of-her-class, sharp-edged type who takes on the case with razor claws and teeth and does everything she can to keep him out of the courtroom and far away from the Vinsmokes, who are gleefully convicted in the court of public opinion long before they actually face trial. Sanji’s lawyer ensures they’re hammered with every charge they can throw at them, and the system is happy to be given the glue to finally make the charges stick. 

“I was opposed to the death penalty, but now I’m not so sure.” Vivi says coldly one day, reading an article over Robin’s shoulder. 

“Prison’s too good for them.” Nami agrees fiercely from Robin’s other sides. “I say dig a hole and throw them in it, with some hungry tigers for good measure.” 

Weeks smear together. Long phone calls in French. Reiju takes a plea deal and spills all the family secrets, securing Sanji’s safety before disappearing for her own. Pudding is put in a witness protection program and he never hears from her again, except that his lawyer mentions she was in mandatory psychiatric care. Two decades of brainwashing would necessitate that, he supposes. The holidays slide by him at some point. The lease gets renewed for another year and Sanji wants to feel selfish, feel guilty for holding them all back, but he needs them so fucking badly. Cooking meals is the only thing that lets him feel normal for a little while. 

Even with concrete, thousands of miles, and multiple levels of security between them, Sanji stops feeling safe. Nights are plagued by nightmares and sleep without rest. His job was lost when he disappeared, and he’s reluctantly given it back with much fewer hours. He tries to hold it together, tries so hard to be rational and appreciate the life he came so close to losing, but his insides feel like broken glass. 

The trials give him a focus, something to do even if it’s just following his lawyer’s instructions and moving through the rest of the day like a robot. It at least resembles normal functioning, but when they draw to a close about a month before his and Usopp’s second anniversary, he feels lost. Set adrift. He’s washing dishes one evening (never mind that he hasn’t showered in a few days, this is productive, he needs to do this) and happens to look out the window, happens to see someone about the same height with the same shade of blonde hair- It’s only a split second of paralyzing fear, because it’s just some teenager on his way to the coffee shop down the street, it’s not one of them. It never will be, they’re in the ground or in maximum security. But then it starts. 

A sharp pain in his chest, much worse than any heartburn. His lungs go into overdrive and his hands shake, palms growing slick as the glass slides out of his hands and clatters into the rinse basin. His stomach tightens up, bile threatening in his throat as his feet go numb. He unwillingly slides down against the cabinets beside him, his mind an unrelenting stream of _nononononononono_ as he finds purchase on the floor. The stress, the cigarettes, it must have caught up with him. He’s too young to die, this isn’t fucking fair. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t. 

Zoro’s kneeling in front of him in an instant. That’s right, he was rooting around in the fridge and Sanji had forgotten to snap at him. His stupid face looks more serious than Sanji’s ever seen him. “Sanji, look at me. It’s okay.” 

Sanji wants to scream at him, tell him he isn’t fucking okay, he’s going to die you fucking moss for brains, call an ambulance or something. But he can’t. His vision starts to swim, and he feels like he’s about to keel over. Why now? He survived them twice just so he could croak on the goddamn kitchen floor? 

“You’re okay, I’ve got you. Trust me.” Zoro’s eyes stay locked on Sanji’s. “I’m going to get Chopper. But just listen to me for a second.” Zoro takes his hand and Sanji wants to kick him good and hard because he doesn’t need someone to hold his fucking hand right now. “Breathe in when I squeeze, and breathe out when I let go, okay?” 

The mosshead has lost his fucking marbles. But the vice-grip of Zoro’s rough hand on his own is just painful enough to be a distraction. He breathes in, and then out, because he can barely move and it’s the only option he has. In and out, Zoro’s eyes fixed on him. Slowly, slowly, his breathing balances out, the pain in his chest subsides, and the world stops spinning. He feels like shit, but not like he’s about to flatline. It’s a marginal improvement and he’ll take it. 

Zoro lets go of his hand, another improvement, and stands slowly. Sanji hears the sink run and Zoro kneels back down with a glass of water, placing it in Sanji’s shaking hands. “I’m going to go upstairs and get Chopper. I’ll only be a minute, okay?” 

Sanji nods, trying to sip the water and spilling some. Zoro leaves on heavy feet, he thumps his head back against the cupboard and closes his eyes, exhausted and angry. His mind is an asshole, and now, so is his body. 

“I understand if you’d like to be checked out by a fully licensed doctor.” Chopper says, after giving him a full rundown and poking his cold little stethoscope all over Sanji’s chest. “In fact, I’d recommend it. But it was definitely a panic attack. If it was a cardiovascular problem, you’d still be showing signs.” 

“Well, shit.” Sanji buttons his shirt back up and sucks on his cigarette. He doesn’t smoke inside generally, but everyone else is at work and his knees are still wobbly. “At least I know what it was now. Sorry for scaring the shit out of you.” 

Chopper frowns, brown cheeks puffing out under his damp hair. Zoro had gotten him out of the bath, just another tick mark for Sanji’s guilt. “Sanji, it’s going to get worse unless you do something about it. Your symptoms are consistent with post-traumatic stress and given what happened-“ 

“I told you, I’m not going to fucking therapy.” Sanji cuts him off, standing up and tucking his shirt back in. “I don’t need pills, I don’t need to talk about my feelings, I just need a little time to get the fuck over it. I’m working on it, trust me.” 

“Sanji,” Chopper’s voice is firm but not unkind. Hard to believe he’s only eighteen, he sounds like a proper M.D. now. “It’s not something you can fix on your own. You haven’t slept a full night in over six months, doesn’t that tell you something?” 

“Yes, that I have a shit sleep schedule. Speaking of which, I’m going to bed. Thanks for the checkup.” Sanji flicks his cigarette butt into the sink and hurries past their youngest housemate. 

“Sanji! Wait, you need to-” 

“I don’t need to do a goddamn thing, now piss off!” Sanji barks as he stomps past the mosshead reclining in the living room and up the stairs. He crawls fully-clothed into Usopp’s bed, not in the mood to see Chopper for at least a while. The only light is from the small window above the headboard. He focuses the chipped paint along the edge of the wall and wills himself weakly towards unconsciousness. 

Chopper isn’t the first one. Nearly everyone has suggested he “just go talk to someone,” as if that would do anything. Talking about it wouldn’t change a goddamn thing so why bother? He just needs to keep going. Maybe he’d try and get more hours tomorrow. Zeff’s been sending him a little money every month since he got back, but he can’t afford that. Working full-time would make things go completely back to normal. 

*** 

Two weeks of forty-hour labour later, he’s fired. Disappearing mid-shift (to text Usopp until he didn’t want to throw up anymore, but no one needed to know that), disheveled appearance, and poor communication were the cited reasons, but colourfully telling his boss to go fuck himself probably sealed the deal. 

The urgings of his friends to “go talk to somebody” become more frequent, especially from Usopp. And Sanji can’t blame him. He’s the one shaking Sanji awake from nightmares, comforting him, and tolerating the general assholery that he can’t seem to bite back. But the younger man’s long fuse finally burns out. After Sanji repeatedly insisted he was not going to some counsellor even just to try it, there’s no fucking point, Usopp had put his head in his hands. He said in a small and broken voice, “You can’t keep going like this, Sanji. It’s not getting better and I-I can’t do it anymore- we can’t keep doing this-“ 

Sanji’s response was quick, sharp, and cruel, slicing through the safety net created by the relieved, raw passion of their reunion. 

That was about five hours ago. Usopp had gone to work at some point presumably. Sanji is down in the basement, doing his laundry as slowly as he possibly can. No one comes down here except to use the laundry machines or to get something from the mish-mash piles of stored items. He brought a bottle of pop and his cigarettes, he can stay until he figures out what to do next. How he can best exit the lives of his friends who had done so much for him, who had saved him, and all he’d done in return was hurt them. 

Fuck’s sakes, he was crying again. He wanted everything to stop. Just let it stop. 

He hears footsteps on the wooden stairs and wipes the tears away, watching the spin of the dryers. Zeff would have him back at the Baratie. It might be a shitty job in a shitty little town, but he could work and not bother anyone anymore. He didn’t even have to live with Zeff, there were plenty of bachelor apartments. 

Nami sits down beside him, perching on the edge of the large trunk (it was Sabo’s or maybe Ace’s, from when they had lived here, one of the many inexplicable pieces of weird shit they hung onto for some reason). “Sanji, we need to talk.” 

Sanji’s voice is stiff, his face hot in the cool air. “Sure, what about?” Like he didn’t fucking know. God, he was a waste of time. 

Nami sighs quietly and turns toward him, trying to catch his eye. “I don’t know what I understand less, you pretending you’re not hurting or you avoiding everything that could help you.” 

“I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I didn’t want this to happen.” 

“I don’t want you to be sorry.” Nami touches his shoulder and it makes him flinch, suddenly hyperaware again. “What you went through was absolutely horrendous. You could have died. You really think you can just forget about it? You need help-” 

“I know!” Sanji yells, burying his face in his hands and burning white-hot with anger. “I fucking know and I’ve been trying to move on and it’s not working and I have no job and how is talking to someone supposed to fucking fix any of this?! Fucking how? Goddammit, I can’t…” 

Nami stays quiet until his breathing evens out, her hand still charitably on his shoulder. “Well, literally anything would work better than what you’re doing right now. You’ve got a whole bunch of people upstairs who care about you, Sanji. We’ll figure something out.” 

Sanji chokes and keeps his eyes covered, holding back the hot tears. “I’m so fucking sorry, Nami. I’ve treated you all- I can’t- I need to move out and-“ 

“Oh hell no, you won’t.” Nami interrupts, her voice cracking. He manages to meets her eyes and they’re fierce but damp. “You are not running away from us! We knew when- if we got you back alive, this would happen, and we don’t care how long it takes, we- we just wanted you back. No one gives a shit about you having a job, we just want you to be okay! Nothing else matters right now!” 

The dryer buzzes loudly in the background. Sanji’s eye leak against his will and he covers his face again, leaning his weight on his hands. They’re quiet for a long time, Nami softly rubbing his back, which just makes him weep more because he doesn’t deserve that kindness. It feels awful. When Sanji manages to speak again, his throat rasps like sandpaper. “I was a complete bastard to Usopp today.” 

“I know, he’s the one who sent me down here.” Sanji glances over in surprise, but Nami’s expression is unreadable. “He knew you wouldn’t push me away because of your thing with women.” 

Sanji drops his head again, groaning. “God, I’m so fucked up. I’m not going to get better. Why does he stay? Why are any of you putting up with my bullshit?” 

“No you’re not, yes you are, because he loves you, and because we give a damn about you.” Nami brushes his bangs away from where they’re damp and stuck to his face, he flinches away. “But you do need to stop hiding and apologize. After that, we’ll figure out what to do. We’ve got your back, Sanji. We’ll help you get through this.” 

Sanji’s apologies are C-grade at best, so Nami, brilliant communicator that she is, gives him a few pointers before shoving him towards Usopp’s room. Sanji cries again and he hates it, but he manages to explain how sorry he is and what he plans to do about his fucked up head while burning through half a pack of smokes. They agree on time and space, on exhaustion and pain, and then Usopp’s arms welcome him again. 

“All I want is for you to be okay.” Usopp whispers into Sanji’s shoulder, his voice at once resigned and hopeful. “There’s not much I can do to help, but I’ll be here, alright? I promise.” 

Sanji’s heart throbs weakly with guilt, but he feels a flicker of something that might be motivation, might be strength, and it’s the best he’s felt in months. 

He quietly apologizes to everyone he’s lashed out at in turn, but Chopper takes priority after Usopp. Primarily because he needs some questions answered about this whole getting-better process, but also because he has to sleep four feet from the kid. Chopper is happy to forgive and forget, especially when he gets to deliver an uninterrupted medical lecture. 

“So you see here,” Chopper says between bites of his freshly-baked cookies. He sits cross-legged on the edge of his bed, holding a neatly tabbed and organized binder out to Sanji, who’s sitting on the edge of his own, chewing an unlit cigarette. “I have a list of all the community agencies and therapists in the city that deal with post-traumatic stress. Some information might be outdated, but all the websites are there. And I did enough digging to make sure they’re all reputable. Oh, and they’re colour-coded by free or sliding-scale fees.” 

Sanji scratches his scruffy beard, scanning the bullet points. “And you did this for a project worth how much of your final grade?” 

“Ten percent, but when I have real patients I’ll need to have all this info on hand.” Chopper hands the binder to Sanji and wipes the crumbs from his chin. “You can keep it if you want. I have it all saved on my computer. Is there anything else you wanted to know?” 

“Yeah,” Sanji presses his lips together. “Does any of this actually fix anything, or does it just keep you treading water forever?” 

“Fix isn’t the correct term. Trauma leaves scars, but you can always heal. It’ll take time and experimentation, but it’ll happen.” Chopper sighs and shifts on the bed. “I know it sounds a bit unlikely, but I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t sure it was worth trying.” 

Sanji’s lips curl weakly as he sighs. “I know, you’re too good of a doctor for that.” 

“Hah, shut up!” Chopper teases, unable to hush his pleased giggle, and hops off the bed. “I have to get going. My study group booked a room at the library. If you need anything else, just ask, okay? I want to make sure you get what you need.” 

“Sure thing, don’t worry about it.” Sanji waves the little med student off and starts idly thumbing through the binder, lacking the focus to do more than skim, but he promised he would try. He only had to go to one or two of these places, right? Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. 

With some professional nudging by Chopper, Sanji sits through an awkward appointment with his actual doctor, followed by a slightly less awkward appointment with a nice, older woman downtown. He quickly finds himself with a filled prescription for something called a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor, two sessions a week, and regular phone check-ins. He feels mostly the same, not better, but not worse. He’ll probably improve once he gets a fucking return call from someone who isn’t Zeff or his therapist. 

After slamming and cursing his way through making dinner one night, he retreats to his room only to be followed by Luffy, persistent bastard that he is. “That spaghetti place turned you down, huh?” 

“It was an Italian bistro, and yes, they fucking did.” Sanji dicks around aimlessly on his phone, lying on his back and not looking up. “You get fired one fucking time and no one wants you to so much as bus their shitty tables. At this rate, I’ll have to fucking move back in with the shitty geezer.” 

“Eh? Why?” 

“Because I need money, stupid! I’ve been leeching long enough as it is. At least at the Baratie, I could work to earn my keep.” 

“I can pay your rent.” Luffy says plainly, as if he’s offering to cover his bar tab. 

Sanji scrubs a hand over his face. “And my phone, bus pass, groceries, and my fucking meds? Sure, Luffy! And pay for my dates while you’re at it!” That last one was almost tempting. All he’d given Usopp for their anniversary last month was a massage and his best lasagna recipe. The poor guy even acted like he was happy to get such shitty gifts. 

“I could,” Luffy frowns, voice wound up and defiant. “I don’t want you moving away from us. We’d miss you, and all your stuff is here.” 

“Don’t fucking guilt-trip me! Leeching off the geezer is one thing, leeching off any of you is another.” Sanji rolls towards the wall, hoping Luffy will get frustrated or bored and leave. “It’s not fair that you’re all working your asses off while I just sit around and make dinner.” 

“Heh, that makes you sound like our housewife-Ow! That hurt!” Luffy rubs the spot on his knee where Sanji’s heel landed. “You keep applying to full-time places though, right? Why not apply for a part-time place? I bet Ace knows somebody who needs extra help.” 

“Because that wouldn’t pay for jack shit.” Sanji goes back to playing with his phone, feeling too tired to be properly pissed off, and too pissed off to just go to sleep. 

“That’s why I was gonna help you out,” Luffy insists again. Sanji hears the clicking of his phone keyboard, though everyone’s repeatedly told Luffy to turn the sound off. “I can send you some from my savings, see?” 

“Oh, so you can fuck yourself over instead of letting me get my shit together? I am not fucking-“ Sanji sits up and finds Luffy brazenly shoving his bank statement in his face. A bank statement that should not belong to someone who works at a game store. “Where the fuck did you get all that?” 

“My mom made me a fund thinger when I was born, and I got to open it when I finished school.” Luffy picks his nose absentmindedly. “She can’t send anymore, but my dad sent a little bit a while ago, oh! And Gramps gave me some for graduating, because he bet me I couldn’t do it. I sure proved him wrong!” 

Sanji falls back against his bed, hands mashed against his face as Luffy’s triumphant laughter echoes in his ears. “You have that much, and you wear the same pair of pants seven days in a row?” 

“Nuh-uh, I’m wearing different ones today.” Luffy lifts his leg to show off the fleecy black tights he’s wearing underneath his worn purple skirt. 

“Those are Nami’s, you were supposed to give those back.”

“They make my crotch comfy, and she said she didn’t want them anymore.” 

“Anyways,” Sanji pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s still your money, for travelling the world and shit. Not for coddling my sorry ass.” 

“It’s for whatever I wanna use it for.” Luffy says simply, crossing his arms and frowning. “We got you back, but part of you is still over there. I wish I could’ve just beaten them up, then maybe you’d be all the way back. But being in French jail would really suck, so instead I’ll help you out till you’re back to your old self!”   
Luffy grins down at him, shining and optimistic as ever in the face of Sanji’s self-pity. Sanji crumples, tucking his face against his arm. “That might never happen, Luffy. I don’t want you to be on the hook for that.” 

“Sure it will. You’ll get better, you’re really strong!” Luffy chuckles and sits on the edge of the bed, beside Sanji’s legs. “Ace is really strong too, but he needed help for a while. When he was in the hospital, I came back from getting chips and he was saying all the bratty stuff you just said to me, but to Marco. You’re both real bad at letting people be nice to you.” 

Sanji grumbles, but can’t summon a sarcastic reply. Ace had never talked about how he ended up at Whitebeard’s, and Luffy had only made passing allusions that it was “really bad” and it had happened when Luffy was still in high school. Still a kid who couldn’t yet bowl over people with generosity. 

“Alright.” He shuffles up, laying across the bed properly and rolling to face the wall. He pulls a corner of the rumpled, in-need-of-a-wash covers over him and shuts his eyes. “Let’s talk details tomorrow, I’m gonna get some sleep.” 

“Okay, g’night Sanji!” Luffy says brightly. He lays down beside Sanji’s back and pulls his 3DS out of his hoodie pocket, loading it up and impatiently tapping the plastic sides as it plays its wake-up jingle. 

“…Any reason you’re still here?” 

“Usopp’s at that thing at Heracles’ shop right? He said he won’t be home till two, so I’ll stay here to keep your nightmares away.” Luffy wiggles in place, settling his skinny frame against Sanji’s and tapping away at buttons with his eyes trained on the small screen. “Plus I gotta grind some levels so my team can beat the Elite Four, and Zoro says the light keeps him awake.” 

“Who the fuck- Whatever, just- keep it down, okay?” 

“’Kay.” Luffy flips the volume switch to mute. Sanji sighs and flops back down, letting his eyes droop shut as he takes in the warmth at his back and wills himself towards sleep. 

He wakes seemingly minutes later, though judging by the overwhelming quiet it must be hours, feeling the weight of an arm around his waist. He hears footsteps and assumes it’s Chopper returning, dropping back off until he hears a very familiar snort-laugh and the shutter-click of a phone camera. He half-sits up and finds not his boyfriend, but Luffy snoozing away behind him. “The hell?! Wake up! C’mon, up! Get the hell off me!” 

Luffy groans and blinks awake slowly, frowning and recoiling from Sanji’s shoving hands. “Why’d you wake me up? I was having such a good sleep!” 

“Not in my goddamn bed! Go sleep on Zoro! Out, now!” 

“Sanji’s so grumpy,” Luffy mumbles. He stumbles up and out, sleep-rumpled and half-awake. “Hi Usopp, g’night.” 

“Goodnight, Luffy.” Usopp snickers, turning his attention back to his disheveled partner. “Gosh, Sanji, you could have told me you wanted to start cuddling other people.” 

“Fuck you, and delete that picture.” Sanji falls back onto the mattress with a grunt, worn-out and disoriented, but now too awake to fall back asleep easily. 

“Later, too tired, hand cramped into raptor claw from too much tattooing.” Usopp drops his phone on the side table, and Sanji notices he’s already changed into pajamas. He crawls under the covers and spoons up behind him, nose cold against Sanji’s neck. “I got a text from Luffy saying ‘Talked to Sanji about money stuff and caught a Ditto,’ everything okay?” 

“Yeah, we just- figured some stuff out.” Sanji mumbles and shifts. “M’still gonna get a job, just gotta, y’know, find one that’ll leave time for appointments and stuff.”

“Oh, good. Maybe you’ll get into a nicer place this time.” Usopp brushes a kiss over his shoulder and burrows closer against him. “I’m sorry I can’t help you out, but alas, I majored in art and am still going through my blue period. When my greatness and fame come, I’ll be able to lavish you with all the jewels and season theatre passes that a tortured artist’s muse deserves.” 

Sanji snorts, wriggling down into the sheets. “Tortured, really?” 

“Hey, repeated tablet crashes before a deadline are the purest form of torture. You can see the passion and pathos of it in my linework as I drink more and more coffee.” Usopp yawns, settling in and relaxing against the line of Sanji’s back. 

Sanji chuckles, covering Usopp’s hand with his own and reveling in the contact. Sex hadn’t happened in longer than Sanji could remember, and dates were sporadic. He needed to pull himself back together on his own time, but the touch of Usopp’s warm skin on his own, freely given, is enough to keep him going. 

*** 

Sanji accepts Luffy’s hand up, but redoubles his efforts to get his shit together. Goes to his appointments, does the weird homework his therapist keeps assigning him, takes his meds, fields occasional phone calls from his lawyer, gets tea ready for when Usopp comes home. He even gets a part-time position when Ace’s connections at the Whitebeard Home for Wayward Adults lead him to a kind, pompadour-sporting guy named Thatch who Ace calls ‘brother.’ Sanji gave up trying to connect the family dots of Luffy and company a long time ago. 

He cooks and showers more often and cooks some more, fitting in dates with Usopp between work and appointments and the days where he just feels gutted and unfit for anyone’s company. His sessions start including more than just talking, like writing out everything that happened and reading it back to her, doing stuff with his eye movement, some pretty hokey-sounding shit. Chopper assures him they’re legitimate treatments and no, she didn’t get her degree out of a cereal box, stop being such a smartass. 

“She wants me to try fucking yoga,” Sanji grumbles to Usopp on their way to the fancy cinema that’s screening one of Usopp’s favourite movies. “Like yeah, I’m sure laying on a floor listening to some hippie bullshit will totally make me stop having panic attacks for no fucking reason.” 

“Pft, I’ve heard it can help, though.” Usopp tugs at his tuque, shielding his ears from the chilly autumn night air. “Zoro taught me how to meditate when we started going to the gym, and now we do it on the bus back every time. It’s not this super-spiritual one-with-everything thing, it’s more like- checking out of all the stuff that’s bothering you and letting your mind be quiet for a couple minutes. Takes a bit of practice, but it’s actually really nice once you have it down.” 

“Hmm,” Sanji lights another cigarette, hoping to burn through it before the movie. His mind hasn’t been anywhere near quiet in over a year. Maybe longer. “Well, if the mosshead can do it, it can’t be that hard.” 

“That’s the spirit.” Usopp laughs, rolling his eyes. “Plus, it’s a good lead-in if you wanna start working out again. Throwing yourself back into your old routine would probably end with you tearing a ligament or something.” 

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Sanji frowns slightly. Even starting work again had made his joints ache like old age had come way too early. This trauma bullshit was a pain in the ass. “So, start with hippie bullshit, work back up to kickboxing? Sounds legit.” 

“Atta boy,” Usopp grins, leaning against Sanji’s arm more. “If you enjoy it, we should try one of those couple’s classes. I bet I could lift you.” 

Sanji grins back. “I’d like to see you try.” 

January arrives. They renew the lease again and toast their sixth year in the house. Robin asks how his treatments are going one night, when he’s preparing a stir fry and she’s working on her dissertation at the kitchen table, and he feels compelled to answer honestly. Seems his “woman thing,” as Usopp had dubbed it and his therapist was still trying to suss out, was still very much present. Oh well, the women in his life deserved his best self when most men paid them barely a tenth of the respect they deserve. 

“The yoga? I mean it’s- not better than therapy, but it’s more energizing? Actually sort of fun?” Sanji carefully chops some green peppers. “And more of a workout than I thought it would be, which is actually nice.” 

“Fun is important,” Robin says with her ever-enigmatic smile. “So you feel like you’re doing better, then?” 

“Yeah.” Sanji pauses, as if the answer is a surprise to him. “Well, as compared to last year, for sure. Why?” 

“I’m glad, that’s all.” Robin rubs her sock feet over Sunny’s furry belly as the dog’s laid out asleep and snuffling under the table. “You’re looking better, too. You were so thin and pale last year, I was worried. We all were.” 

“Ah, no need for that.” He flashes her a smile as he scrapes more vegetables into the pan. “You’ve got your own things to worry about, I can look after myself.” Sanji grabs the bottle of sherry off the rack by the fridge and refills her glass, mindful not to spill any on the mountain of papers surrounding her laptop. “With the way you’re working, this time next year we’ll be calling you Professor Nico!” 

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Robin chuckles, smiling gratefully at him though her eyes are tired. “But back on topic, I’m glad to see you looking well. I know it’s not easy.” She takes a long sip of her drink and sighs. “I might have to take up yoga myself. Perhaps it would reduce the visions I keep having of repeatedly stabbing my advisor with his red editing pen.” 

Sanji pauses, never entirely sure if she’s kidding. “Er, my class is co-ed if you’d like to go together?” 

Robin swishes the glass and smiles at him. “That would be lovely.” 

*** 

Robin’s encouragement nudges him forward. Sanji takes on more hours at work, eats without having to force himself past a barely-there appetite, sleeps better, and cries less during his sessions. Sanji and Usopp spend their third anniversary at a comic convention, selling Usopp’s art while Sanji goes on coffee, food, and bank runs. Honestly, it’s a lot more fun than he expected. They even have a hotel room all to themselves, but they mostly use it to watch TV. 

They’ve mostly moved past the incident in therapy, but the more they go back into Sanji’s early years, the more he freezes up. But the more they talk around it, the more he remembers. He’d been so young, he thought the memories would fade away with time, but they’re as strikingly clear as ever. They were still creeping into his mind when he was just going about his life in college, and now his therapist is gently taking him by the collar and leading him back to that time over and over, making them impossible to forget, even during sex. 

“Sanji, is there something you’re not telling me?” He asks one night while they’re lying in Usopp’s bed, the gap between them wider than a mile. Sanji immediately puts his book down because Usopp’s tone is at once kind and hurt. Goddammit, why couldn’t he stop fucking up? 

Usopp starts rambling, voice touched with nerves. “You can tell me anything, you know that. If it’s something really painful, I understand, but…I feel like you’re shutting me out. I don’t know if I can help, but I want to at least know what’s going on.” 

Sanji takes his reading glasses off, rubbing his forehead and suddenly resenting Usopp’s preference for the outer side of the bed. “It’s nothing, just- therapy stuff. It’s not important.” 

“It must be kind of important,” Usopp nudges gently, wearing that worried expression that makes Sanji’s guilt feel twice as heavy. “It’s like you’re on another planet half the time, is everything- are you okay?” 

“Yeah, of course I am.” Sanji exhales in a rush, because the last thing he wants is for Usopp to feel like his keeper, more than he maybe already does. “We’re ah, digging into some childhood stuff, y’know. It’s not fun to talk about. I’ve just been- chewing on some things we’ve discussed, that’s all.” 

“Okay,” Usopp says, sitting up to be eye level with Sanji. “Listen, you don’t have to tell me anything if you really don’t want to, but…you’ve been doing better and now it seems like you’re doing worse. I don’t think that’s supposed be happening, you know?” 

“No. It shouldn’t.” Sanji swallows hard and twirls his glasses in his hands. “Maybe I’ll stop going. The stuff we’re talking about- it’s pointless. She’s trying to find meaning that’s not there and it doesn’t matter so I don’t need to keep thinking about it.” 

“Meaning in what?” He can’t look over, because he knows Usopp’s eyes will be peering into him like he can lock on to his thoughts. “Look, I just want to know so-“ 

“Once upon a time I was four or some shit, I went into Reiju’s room and was sitting on her bed watching her tape of ‘Cinderella.’ My brothers caught me, told my dad, and suddenly everything was about how much of a _poule mouillée_ I was, and that’s how they justified- everything they did.” Sanji takes a deep breath in when he feels Usopp’s hand on his knee. “That’s all. And she keeps talking about it because she thinks it’s some big fucking turning point, I don’t know.” 

“That’s awful, and I’m sorry those bastards were so awful to you.” Usopp leans over and kisses his temple so sincerely, Sanji has to shut his eyes. “But why does she think it’s a big deal?”

Sanji’s throat tightens and he tries to ground himself, feel the old creaky mattress under him and anchor himself, but a cable snaps and he feels his heart launch into his larynx. “Because, they always accused me of wanting to be a girl and- and sometimes I did. And sometimes I still do, just sometimes, and it’s- distracting. I’d rather just forget about it.” 

Sanji burns red-hot with shame, but Usopp’s hand remains firmly on his tightly bent knee, his tone curious. “And what does your therapist say about that?” 

“That- that it’s probably just because I saw Reiju getting treated a little kinder than us boys, and Mom- And with the way I treat women now. It’s sort of like I subconsciously think the only way to get treated that way is to be a woman. It doesn’t matter, anyway, I just want to move on and forget about it.”

“Is that so?” Usopp looks a special level of pissed off, as expected. He didn’t ask for another layer to Sanji’s fucked up head. “I think you need to see a different counsellor.” 

“What for?” 

“Clearly she’s helped you all she can, and now she’s out of her gourd.” Usopp’s tone is flat and irritated as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “You should see someone at the centre I go to, they’re all really helpful and actually know what they’re talking about.” 

Sanji shakes his head, his bangs flicking into his eyes. “No, I don’t- She’s right, I do still think women are better, and it’s not all the time. I just need to stop thinking about it.” 

“Sanji.” Usopp catches hold of Sanji’s hands, clasping them tight in his and letting the glasses drop to the covers. “If my counsellor told me that I transitioned because I looked up to my dad, would you or would you not tell me to tell them to go fuck themselves?” 

“Well yeah, but that’s different.” Sanji tries to tug away from Usopp’s grasp. “You’ve always been exactly who you are and known what you want, without question. I’m just…some pervert who wants to cross-dress sometimes, that’s- it’s not worth even talking about.” 

“Some pervert, huh?” Usopp’s mouth draws into a fine line, the faintest tint of humour in his voice. “Better not say that around Izou, or else Thatch might jam your pink slip where the sun don’t shine.” 

“Oh come on, at least Izou looks the part. I’d look like a fucking creep.” Sanji’s voice has gone raspy and he yanks his hands free, tucking them against his chest. “You wouldn’t want me looking like that, no one would. And I can’t risk the staring, the bullshit, if I ever want to work somewhere else, I can’t, I just can’t-“ 

“Hey, hey, easy.” Usopp presses a hand to Sanji’s jaw and makes their gazes meet, his artist calluses catching on Sanji’s beardscruff. “Let’s back it up, okay? No one’s saying you have to go full femme tomorrow. You can take baby steps-“ 

“Or no steps at all.” Sanji cuts him off. “Fuck, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Forget I said anything, it doesn’t matter!” 

“Then why are you getting so upset?” 

“Because I’m sick of all this bullshit!” Sanji snaps, loud enough to wake Brook in the attic. He drops his head, curling his hands over his eyes and digging his nails into his hairline. “I’m sick of talking to people about shit, I’m sick of being a fucking weirdo. I’m sick of everyone offering me sympathy because I’m too fucked up to just get on with my fucking life!” 

Usopp’s hands rest lightly on his cheeks, not holding anymore, just offering careful comfort. “Sanji, it’s okay.” 

“No it isn’t.” Sanji spits out, his voice thick and his lungs wheezy. “It’s not fair. The Vinsmokes are fucking sociopaths, but at least they get to be normal. Why not me? What the fuck did I do to end up like this?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Sanji.” Usopp draws him against his chest, his voice firm and assured as Sanji hides against his neck. “I hate to use it to make my point, but this is why you need to see someone who gets it. Nothing those awful people did made you this way. You know who you are and you get to decide how you want to act on it.” 

Sanji takes a few deep, shuddering breaths and leans heavier on Usopp. “I really don’t. I’ve never let myself think about it too much. It’s just a sometimes thing.” 

“Well, now you can. And you’ll have a professional who’ll be able to help you with the deeper stuff.” Usopp settles, their legs jamming together uncomfortably on the barely-double bed, and rubs Sanji’s back. “You’re not going back there. She’s not helping you by putting bullshit like that in your head.” 

“I don’t want help, I want-“ Sanji sighs, wrapping his arms loosely around Usopp. “God, I’m sorry to get like this over nothing. I’m such a fucking hassle.” 

“It’s not nothing, and you’re not a hassle. I want to know what’s going on inside your stubborn noggin.” Usopp chuckles, lightly rapping Sanji’s scalp with his knuckles. “And this is something I can actually help with, as opposed to just hugging you and telling you everything’s gonna be okay.” 

“You do a lot more than that.” Sanji sits up when his shoulders cramp and rubs his eyes. “Is there like, a word for being a cis guy who sometimes wants to, just, be feminine some days? Is that a thing or do I actually have a complex?” 

“Yeah, of course it’s a thing. Maybe you’re genderfluid, or just a cisdude who likes femme stuff, or something else. Only you can decide. But you don’t have to figure any of that out in a hurry.” Usopp brushes Sanji’s overgrown bangs out of the way and smiles kindly, even though Sanji’s face is probably blotchy, damp, and unattractive. “I’m glad you told me. I won’t tell you it’ll be easy, but I’m going to support and love you no matter what, because I like spending time with your dumb ass. And touching it, at mutually agreeable intervals.” 

Sanji snorts, his throat painfully dry. “You still gonna wanna do that if show up in here all done up? I don’t want-“ He swallows hard. “This isn’t worth our relationship. I want you more than I want some shitty dress.” 

“Of course I will. Have you ever seen my not-safe-for-work sketchbook?” Usopp grins and shuffles closer, his blush cast in blue in the dim city light streaming in through the curtains. “Do as much or as little as you want and don’t worry about my approval. But kissing the lipstick off your face is a pretty appealing image, just putting that out there.” 

Sanji stares a moment, scarcely believing he’s awake. Usopp’s eyes flick up to his, full of want and love and tinged with worry. He leans over, inclines his head just before their lips meet. As their kisses draw out, the tension at the base of his spine starts dissolving into tremors that jitter their way through his nerves until he has to pull back. “Fuck, fuck I was so scared. I still am, but fuck. I thought I’d have to hold onto it forever.” 

“I bet,” Usopp murmurs into the space between them. He strokes his fingers through Sanji’s hair and kisses his cheek. “If it makes you feel better, I actually threw up right before I told Kaya I was for sure a guy. That was way more alarming to her than me coming out.” 

“Aw, you poor kid.” Sanji softly kisses him, then his lips tighten. “I want to go the centre, but I’m worried about running into Ivankov. With the way I acted around them, and then turning up there…I mean, they’d be right to say ‘I told you so,’ but- fuck. I was such an asshole. I never thought- I just never thought, that’s the goddamn problem.” 

“Iva won’t so much as look at you sideways, they take their work at the clinic super seriously. If you want to bring it up with them later, that’s another thing.” Usopp leans back and snags Sanji’s cigarettes and lighter off the nightstand, palming them into Sanji’s hand. “But let’s save some worry and introspection for tomorrow, okay? Right now you need a smoke, and we both need bed.” 

“Okay,” Sanji lights up, fingers shaking ever so slightly. Usopp stretches out beside him, keeping a comforting hand on his leg. He looks so comfortable, in his stretched-out old sleep shirt and his bright green plaid boxers, looking up at Sanji as if nothing’s changed. “I don’t deserve you.” 

“Remember that time I told you not to say that because it’s not true? Oh yeah, that’s every time.” Usopp smirks and gooses Sanji, hard. “Knock that bullshit off.” 

“Dammit! I’ll kick your ass, you bastard.” 

“That’s better.” 

*** 

The only thing that changes at first is his appointments. He ends up with the same counsellor as Usopp; an imposing, blue-haired woman who is helpful and unflinching in turns, pressing ever forward without pushing his boundaries. They hack through all the junk inside his head, but outside of sessions, the fog and distraction slowly drift away. Work picks up in the warmer weather, and Sanji starts squirrelling money away again, hoping his own restaurant will be just as successful when he finally opens it.

After a month or so, he gets the guts to purchase some feminine clothing online, a small nightmare of measurements and guesswork. He leaves the box unopened in his closet for a solid week. His counsellor had gone through her own transition years ago, and encouraged him to take it slow, but one day he dives in. It’s nothing too out there, just a simple blouse the same shade of acceptably-unisex salmon pink as a few of his other dress shirts, though it is strange doing up the buttons on the other side. The dress slacks fit a little too loose, but a belt and some discreet safety pins do the trick. The shoes had been a real treat to figure out, but thankfully he was walking a well-tread path and found a pair of size twelve slip-ons with a short heel and a shiny finish. Higher heels seemed life-threatening and unnecessary given his height, but a little extra arch in his back felt surprisingly nice. 

He starts on dinner after lingering in front of the mirror a little too long. Usopp’s the first one home, kicking his sneakers off and strolling into the kitchen to hug Sanji from behind, not noticing the change in outfit until Sanji stiffly turns around. “Oh! I figured you’d get something like this.” 

Sanji flushes. “The hell does that mean?” 

“Well, you always wear such nice men’s clothes. I figured you’d pick out something fashionable like this.” Usopp grins up at him brightly. “I like it!” 

And that’s all that’s said about it. Sanji goes back to making paella while Usopp tells him about the interesting tattoos he got to work on that day. As the others return home, they glance his way, smile, and say nothing. Everyone turns up for dinner and exits for their evening activities. Sanji is starting on the dishes while Sunny bumbles around his feet, eager for her pre-bedtime adventure in the backyard. 

Franky’s the last one out, too distracted by talking about some crazy project at his garage to eat at a reasonable pace. He stops just before exiting the kitchen, clapping a metal hand on Sanji’s shoulder. “Need any help with those?” 

Sanji hears Robin pause in the hall for a second before continuing upstairs. “No, I’ve got them, thanks. Do you want me to send Sunny upstairs when I’m done?”

“Nah, I’m on shoulder rub duty and Robin’ll be editing for a while yet. Send her in with Luffy if she gets needy. By the way, that outfit? Looks really super on you.” Franky gestures towards Sanji’s general self as he starts to leave. “See ya around, bro! Oh, uh-“ 

“Bro is fine.” Sanji says tightly, his cheeks heating. 

“Cool! Later, bro!” Franky’s heavy footsteps thump up the stairs, in pursuit of his mismatched lady-love as usual. 

Affirmation comes from the strangest places. 

*** 

At first it’s just clothes, nothing more, and it’s comforting. That he’s still Sanji, and his friends still see him as Sanji. It lifts his spirits and gives him a little more energy to divert to everyone else. He joins in on the movie nights that he’s skipped for quite a while, letting Vivi paint his toenails and doing hers in turn. Though his first attempts are clumsy as hell, it sates a reciprocal, caretaking urge that he’s experienced only in longing observation. Something about the gentle ritual of applying cosmetics, the choice of being discreet or bold with them, is so appealing. 

At first it’s just nail polish, bright summery colours that are tucked away in his tight leather work shoes. Then it’s nice-smelling hand cream, soap, and shampoo, which isn’t much of a step, because he doesn’t see anything particularly masculine about wanting to smell like mango instead of an Arctic mountain. Bath bombs no longer seem off-limits, but maybe that’s because Usopp keeps stealing his.   
When he meets his match, he turns to Nami, because she can always be counted on for honesty and certifiably good advice. She answers his questions with a sly smile, and unzips the black faux-leather case of all her tools and palettes, taking them out and examining them until she has an assortment to dot and pat colour onto his face. 

“Now when you do this for yourself, don’t be surprised if it doesn’t look right. It takes a lot of practice.” Nami’s tongue peeps out from between her lips as she sweeps something cold and creamy over his eyelids. “I started wearing eye makeup when I was twelve, and I looked like a raccoon.” 

“I’m sure you looked adorable.” 

“Don’t move.” She taps his nose with the end of a brush and goes back to work. “I only got really good at it because I got a job at the makeup counter in the department store across from my high school, so that was three to five evenings of practice every week. I had a really cool, young manager who would let me take home a few samples at closing every night before she drove me home. She used to tease me for working on my homework in the car.” 

“How long was the drive home?” Sanji asks, keeping his face as still as possible.

“Forty-five minutes or so.” Nami starts sweeping a big fluffy brush over his cheeks. “They closed the high school on our reserve because it failed building code, and they haven’t built a new one yet. But going to school in the city and having that job meant I had a bunch of girls asking me to do their makeup before semi-formals. I made almost a week’s pay on those nights.” 

“Of course, you just have to learn how to do your own face. And there’s a lot of tutorial videos now to help with that.” She leans back, looks at one of her palettes, frowns and looks back. “Take me with you when you buy your own. I’d give you some of mine, but I don’t really have your colours, I’m just making do with what I have.” 

“How much would it cost? Just for the basics, I mean.” Sanji closes his eyes and lets her work, oddly soothed the little sweeps of the soft brush against his skin. 

“It’s a matter of quality and investment. I recommend going on a sale weekend, bringing your credit card, and not looking at the register unless you’re really tight for cash.” Nami rolls a tube of lipstick over his mouth and hands him a tissue. “Kiss this while I get a mirror.” 

Sanji obeys, though he’s confused. He has the gut-urge to look away when she presents him with the mirror, but he’s relieved to find himself staring back at him, his skin glowing yellow as the late summer sun streams into the room. “Wow, you can hardly tell I’m wearing any.”

“That’s the point. It’s you but better, just for starters.” Nami beams with pride behind the mirror. “Take me up on that shopping trip offer and I can show you a lot more.” She taps her neatly trimmed nails on the plastic handle. “Maybe we could go clothes shopping too? There’s tons of stuff that would look really cute on you, and I could pass it to you in the dressing rooms without anybody noticing.” 

“Er,” Sanji coughs, rubbing his lips together and unsure if he likes the sticky sensation. “I’ll think about it. But thank you, for this, and the offer.” 

“No worries, it was a lot of fun.” Nami smiles, but regards him steadily for a moment. She leans over and hugs him, a rare moment of physical affection. Sanji’s surprised to be suddenly granted this trust, but also filled with bliss and regret at ever having narrowed his view of her to simply a potential romantic connection. Nami fills a well inside him just as important and nourishing as Usopp’s, and she, along with everyone, had played a part in rescuing him and dragging him through the darkness. He’s never sure of how to repay such infinite goodness. 

“It’s good to have you back.” She says softly into his shoulder, and he hugs her back tightly. 

*** 

The night before Robin’s thesis defense, when the weather outside is cool and rainy, Sanji fills the tub in the second floor bathroom with water as hot as he can stand and leads Usopp away from his desk and out of his clothes. Seemingly inspired by their lovely roommate’s ambition, he ends up laying out his plans for giving Sogeking a proper series while Sanji washes the day out of his hair. 

“I know it’s going to be a lot of work,” Usopp sighs, leaning forward and tying his hair up while Sanji lathers up his back. “And it might not make money right away, or at all, so it could turn out to be a total timesink.” 

“Not if you need to do it.” Sanji digs his fingers into the nape of Usopp’s neck, massaging the tense muscles as the soap bubbles beneath his fingers. “And you’ve already got lots of people who follow your stuff, I’m sure they’ll read it.” 

“Mm, yeah, hopefully.” Usopp frets, groaning as Sanji kneads down his spine. “I mean I’ve put up little bits here and there, but I’ve been working on the story for years. It’s become so personal, I’m worried I won’t handle it well if I put him out there and no one cares. It’s like watching your kid get booed out of the talent show.” 

“They’ll read it because you’ve been working on it for that long.” Sanji grabs the cup that’s floating beside them and rinses the soap from his back, tracing his fingers over familiar lines of ink. “I don’t know shit about comics, but I think it sounds like a good story. Your work is great and people like it, that’s why they keep coming back for the one-offs. Plus we’ll all read it, so that’s a built-in audience of almost a dozen.” 

Usopp snort-laughs, awkwardly shuffling around and letting Sanji wash his chest. “But even if it does okay, it’ll still take time to build a dedicated audience. If I’m not doing as many projects because of the comic, well, I can’t exactly buy groceries with hopes and dreams.” He sighs and rubs his neck. “Starting it and having to quit seems even worse to me. I dunno if I should go through with it.” 

“You absolutely should. If you care about it that much, you’ll make it work. I know people will love it and throw money at you.” Sanji smiles and angles for a kiss. “Besides, if you don’t do it, I’ll have to listen to you whine.” 

“Thanks,” Usopp replies tartly, but leans in anyway. They kiss for a while, wet bodies pressed together and sharing warmth. Sanji almost lets his hands wander south before Usopp dumps a cupful of water on his head, getting it in his eyes and making him sputter. 

“You’re an asshole.” Sanji smacks Usopp’s arm, nearly missing while he wipes his face clear. 

“Takes one to know one.” Usopp blocks another slap and squirts some shampoo into his hand, working it into Sanji’s sopping hair. “But yeah, you’re right. I need to rip the band-aid off. So, here’s to hoping I don’t have to awkwardly email my dad or beg strangers for commissions? Again?” 

“I can help you out with some bills, that way you don’t have to worry so much.” 

“But I don’t want to be dependent on you.” Usopp sighs, massaging Sanji’s scalp and nearly lulling him to sleep. “And you’re trying to save for your restaurant. It wouldn’t be fair.” 

“Well it’s not like you’re going to be posting three pages a day, right?” Sanji dips forward so Usopp can rinse him off. “What if we got a joint account? We both come up short some weeks, if we pool our bill money together, it’ll be easier.” 

“That could work. I’d still rather make enough on my own, but if we’re helping each other out, I wouldn’t mind that as much.” 

“I’m sure Nami could help you draft a business plan, she’s been helping me with the restaurant for a while.” Sanji opens his eyes and pulls a face as Usopp sweeps his hair back, exposing his curled eyebrows. “Does this turn you on? Talking about money when we’re finally alone and naked?” 

“Of course! You know I love it when you talk finances to me.” Usopp faux-purrs, an exaggerated smile on his face. 

Sanji cracks a grin of his own, talking in a low, seductive voice while Usopp washes his chest. “We could start filing taxes together.” 

“Ooh, keep going.” 

“I just got new benefits at work. I could put you on them.” 

“Mmm, oh god, don’t stop.” 

“We could even,” Sanji leans in close, speaking in a dramatic whisper. “ _Buy a used car together._ ” 

“Oh, _Sanji_!” Usopp moans, falling forward in an almost-convincing swoon before they both bust into stupid laughter. Sanji recovers quicker, settling Usopp in his lap and nudging his way into a kiss. 

Usopp happily accepts, laughter buzzing between their lips. He runs his fingers through Sanji’s once-again shaggy hair. “You should let it grow out. It would look really good on you.” 

“Financial planning and me looking homeless are your new turn-ons? Good to know, pervert.” 

“I’m serious!” Usopp gathers the wet locks together at the back of Sanji’s neck. “See, you could tie it back for work and stuff, and put it in a bun once it gets long enough. Very sexy.” 

Sanji rolls his eyes, but he has had essentially the same haircut since he was fifteen. “I’ll give it a try, for your benefit.” 

Usopp fakes a sigh, hand resting on the abstract tattoo of his parent’s wedding rings over his heart. “You’re so good at keeping the romance alive.” 

“Because I give you what you need,” Sanji hums, pressing a hand to Usopp’s lower back as their laughing eyes meet. “Me looking like an art student and one free eye exam per calendar year.” 

“Oh, _stop_.” 

*** 

Robin, flawless and brilliant as always, successfully defends her thesis to their enthusiastic applause and officially finishes her doctorate. Her research having drawn significant attention in her field, she’s offered a job at the top university in the country. A minor, but decently-paying position with access to well-equipped labs and lots of opportunities for field work, and it’s a full two-hour drive from their current residence. 

A house meeting is called in the kitchen to discuss the inevitable that’s become suddenly and painfully clear: they can’t live together forever. Work is driving them further and further from the student housing section of town, and with almost everyone paired off, living in each other’s pockets is becoming difficult. They all want futures that aren’t feasible with ten people packed into shared quarters. 

“I dunno what everybody’s so upset for,” Luffy says brassly, using his feet and the table leg to rock his chair back and forth. “Nobody’s dying! S’not like we see each other here when we’re busy, anyways.” 

“It’s just hard to let go,” Franky mutters, a little weepy-eyed himself. “I’m gonna miss all you guys, and thinking about some strangers coming in here and changing everything is super upsetting.” 

“We can still hang out,” Luffy replies, still surprisingly unbothered while all of them mope. “As long as we still see each other, the house doesn’t matter. It’ll probably be more fun that way, ‘cause we won’t be fighting over the showers and stuff anymore.” 

“That’s a very good point,” Brook chimes in softly, wearing a sad smile. “Staying here out of nostalgia does a disservice to all of us. I’ll miss it here as well, but it’s far from impossible to pursue our dreams and still spend time together. No one’s planning on dying, I hope.” 

“Yeah, what he said!” Luffy grins that big, undeniable grin that drew them all together in the first place, nearly falling off his chair before Zoro catches him. “I say we throw one last, really awesome party and invite everybody so we won’t have time to be sad! Sanji, you’ll cook for it, right? Let’s have steak!” 

Sanji rolls his eyes from his spot under the stove fan, like he hasn’t burned through three cigarettes trying to keep the tears back. “I’m in, but I’m not cooking steak for an entire party, or just for you.” 

“Aw, but it would be so good! Don’t be stingy!” 

Despite Luffy’s whining, the party goes on minus steak, plus plenty of alcohol and only minor property damage. Recovered from their hangovers, they fold up, seal up, and load up seven years of their lives and trudge out into the January slush, hoping for the best. Robin and Franky move the farthest. Nami and Vivi don’t go far, finding a midpoint between their jobs and Vivi’s father’s house, Chopper joining them while he finishes medical school. Brook finds a comfortable loft in the arts district where he can teach by day and perform on nights and weekends without disturbing any neighbours. 

Sanji does end up cooking steak for Luffy in the end. He and Zoro take the downstairs of a rough-but-functional and decently-sized townhouse near the bay, while Sanji and Usopp take the upstairs. Usopp staunches Sunny’s absence with a lanky orange tabby named Ryunosuke, of all things, from the shelter. Even Law is still frequently asleep on their couch when Sanji heads out for morning shifts, sometimes alone, sometimes with Luffy latched around his neck and drooling. His funeral, Sanji supposes. 

Not long after they move in, Luffy’s desire to see the world takes full hold of his spirit, dragging him out of house and country with Zoro dropping his dull bartending job to trail along behind him. Sanji and Usopp have the house to themselves for months on end, a level of privacy they’ve only enjoyed during brief visits to Usopp’s hometown, and only then when Kaya was at work and her butler had clocked out for the night. 

Sanji’s been finding a rhythm to his gender expression, learning to trust how he feels each morning and move forward from there. Usopp follows his rhythm flawlessly, though it takes Sanji a while to notice. The placement of his hand on Sanji’s waist, the affectionate play of his fingers through Sanji’s ever-lengthening hair while they watch a movie, the almost protective way Usopp will wrap himself around him when they crawl into bed. It’s…sweet, and Sanji wants more, but fear stills his tongue. 

He doesn’t equate masculinity with topping anymore. He lost his aversion to bottoming a long time ago, but he’s always the one leading. The one giving the pleasure before he lets himself receive any. They’re either equals or Sanji’s in charge, regardless of position. And he can’t bring himself to ask to switch things up. 

“That sounds more like a fear of vulnerability than anything else.” His counsellor comments after a pause, while he fidgets in the soft chair across. “You trust Usopp, correct?” 

“With my life, for better or worse.” Sanji answers back, almost too quickly. 

She smiles, reminding him too much of Robin. “Then just tell him what you’ve told me. Tell him what you want to try and why you’re worried. Let him show you it’s okay to be vulnerable and in exchange, you can show him how much you trust him.” 

That kind of therapy homework makes him wince, but he makes himself bring it up while they’re doing the dishes that night, at least to avoid the inevitable tsk-tsking at his next session. 

“So, you want me to-“ Usopp pauses as puts away the last of the cutlery, sounding nervous, which doesn’t fill Sanji with confidence. “Like what you did for me on my birthday?” 

Sanji nods, because that’s a good example as any. And because he can’t bring himself to say ‘Yes, I want you to take charge and hold me down and make love to me until I can’t help but come, I want that.’ Asking Usopp to essentially do all the work seems selfish, even though he’s regularly taken that role with all of his partners and never once considered it work. 

Usopp hand catches his as he draws in close, his smile curving the way that it does when he’s biting the inside of his cheek. “I- I think I can do that.” 

He should have known not to be worried. Usopp had a fondness for roleplay that sometimes made Sanji’s eyes roll, but this time- well it wasn’t quite that, but Usopp wears even mild dominance beautifully, and Sanji is helpless but to give in. He lets himself be undressed, pushed down into the sheets, and teased to the edge and back over and over. 

The pleasure builds and doesn’t let up. Usopp holds him to the fire and keeps him there, like a metal rod at the end of his welding torch, bending him according to his will. Sanji’s focus narrows to the weight of a sweating, muscular body against his and the way his fingers wrap like vices around Usopp’s upper arms, using them as anchors. 

“Hey, breathe.” Usopp’s voice is just above his left ear. Sanji lets go, the breath squeezing out of him, not realizing how tense he’d become. “You okay?” 

Sanji nods, rutting helplessly between sweat-slick skin and damp sheets. “More, fuck, don’t stop!” 

Sanji glimpses the familiar smug smile and feels lips press against his neck, a warm hand tangling with his own. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” 

He’s driven over his peak by relentless, thorough attention, and Usopp follows with a groan Sanji can nearly feel. His legs shake a little afterwards, and he’s thankful for the darkness, as he is for the makeup wipe that Usopp gently brushes over his eyes on his return from the bathroom. The desire to be held and treated like a woman and the desire to submit aren’t the same one, but provided he was in the mood, trussing himself up to draw his partner’s desire held an undeniable appeal. Usopp enjoys his everyday clothes, Sanji wonders what he could wear to really get him going. 

“You alright?” Usopp asks softly when they’ve settled under the covers. A cool spring breeze drifting in from the window makes Sanji shiver and cuddle closer. 

“Mm, yeah.” Sanji tucks his head beneath Usopp’s chin, relishing the caress of his hand against his limp, sated muscles. “Didn’t know you had that in you. Would you- like to do something like that again?” 

“Very much.” Usopp laughs nervously and kisses the crown of Sanji’s head. “You did so great. I’ve thought of stuff like that before, but I was worried you’d be skeeved out by it.” 

“Mm, what kind of stuff?” Sanji draws his fingers down Usopp’s ribs, raising goosebumps in his wake. “Eh? What’s happening in that kinky imagination of yours?” 

“Well, it depends!” Usopp’s voice cracks, sounding nervous for the first time since the kitchen. “Er, how cool are you with the idea of tying me up or uh, vice versa?” 

Sanji’s never been so grateful for a cringey therapy session until this moment. 

*** 

Come summer, Sanji’s moodiness has made an unwelcome return. The disbanding of the Straw Hat House seemed to spur everyone towards their dreams, but not him. Thatch was a great boss, and he was a sous-chef again, but it was never supposed to be a permanent deal. He was still on meds, still snapping into a full-on panic attack when his lawyer called to inform him of some minor detail. He’s surprised the geezer hasn’t called him a burnout yet. That’s what he fucking is. A hamster on a wheel, getting nowhere fast. 

Fuck. It’s his day off and he’s already spent half the day angrily willing himself out of bed and into the shower. Maybe it was the heatwave sitting heavily over the city for the past few days, but rest and focus were not coming easily. It was his stupid fucking brain’s fault that he was a step behind everyone fucking else, the least it could do was leave him alone. 

“Honey, I’m home!” Usopp trills, clomping into the kitchen and standing on tip toe to peer over Sanji’s shoulder. “What’cha making?” 

“Guess.” Sanji keeps on cutting the pike fillets into neat cubes, he has to get going if dinner is going to be on time. 

“I guess, my favourite?” Usopp leans in closer, a Luffy-esque hunger in his voice. “Perfect timing on my part, then. Here, I got you this.” 

Sanji half-turns, expecting a new lighter or something, instead finding himself presented with a small bundle of red roses carefully wrapped in paper and plastic. “Where the hell did these come from?” 

“I stopped at Bon’s shop and he was selling them up by the counter. Thought I’d brighten your day with a spontaneous romantic gesture.” Usopp puffs himself up, grinning like a fool. “Do you feel sufficiently wooed?” 

“Sure, I guess.” Sanji smiles, the expression too genuine for his tone, taking the flowers and inhaling their scent. “I’ll put these in water before they shrivel up to shit.” 

“Good plan,” Usopp leans close to press a quick kiss to Sanji’s cheek. “I’m gonna go weed the garden. Call me in for dinner, okay?” 

“Again? Your pumpkins are dead, let them rest in peace.” 

“No way! They just need a little attention, and some water. Actually, maybe a lot of water. They’ll be huge, you’ll see!” 

Sanji scoffs, turning to the sink as Usopp hurries out the front door. As he snips the ends off the long green stems, he feels odd. He hasn’t done anything to warrant such a nice, expensive gesture. Hell, he was usually the one doing the spoiling, and he hasn’t even done much of that recently. 

He carefully sets the roses into the only vase they own (that Luffy hasn’t broken) and looks through the window onto their small side-yard. Usopp is already elbow deep in dirt, shirt discarded somewhere while the sun beats down on him, visible beads of sweat dripping over the lines of ink and colour on his chest and arms. Sanji rests his chin on one hand, watching those capable muscles flex and gleam in the sun for a few long, pleasant moments. Usopp sits back on his heels, yanking hard on an especially stubborn weed and accidentally showing off how well his shorts fit him. Spotting Sanji, he spares a hand to wave and lands hard on his ass when the weed comes loose. 

Sanji chuckles and waves back, returning to the fish fillets. He hears the fridge open behind him and turns to see Zoro, fresh from work and cracking the cap off a beer with his back teeth. “God, you’re such a fucking animal.” 

Zoro gulps half his beer in a few swallows before responding, an incredulous smirk on his stupid mug. “You’re one to talk, horndog.” 

The mosshead is so very lucky that Zeff raised Sanji, or else he would find a way to starve that idiot. 

After dinner, Luffy drags Zoro into the living room for some competitive rounds of Mario Kart and Sanji clears the table until Usopp touches his arm. “You seem tense, what’s up?” 

“Nothing. Just- a bunch of shit getting on my nerves. Not important.” Sanji sighs and shuffles the dishes into the dishwasher. 

Usopp hugs him from behind as he plays with the settings. “Low on spoons?” 

“Something like that.” Sanji grunts, quickly washing his hands and wiping them dry on the cloth tucked into the waistband of his skirt. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” 

Usopp hums and kisses the curve of Sanji’s neck, capturing his full attention for a moment. “C’mon, let’s go upstairs. I’m running pretty low myself.” 

Sanji drop-kicks his clothes into the hamper and shimmies into a loose, pale blue tank-and-shorts pajama set, a little snug around the sleeves, but comfortable. He shivers and turns the A/C down in their room. A cold front moved in over dinner, with a thunderstorm coming shortly behind it. Usopp holds the light top sheet up and Sanji crawls in, resting comfortably atop the familiar, strong frame beneath him. 

Quiet, folk-ish music plays from Usopp’s speakers. Some new album he’d been listening to a lot recently. It’s nice, hearing the songs blend into one another as they rest, Usopp’s hand rubbing gentle circles into his back. He’s surprised Usopp is relaxing like this, since his comic was really taking off and keeping him busy, on top of his freelancing and hours at Heracles’ parlour. Yet here he was, taking the night off for Sanji, who’s still working one shitty job and can’t be bothered to properly say thank-you for some flowers and has no reason to be fucking stuck in his own head when- 

“Ow!” Usopp yelps and Sanji realizes he’s sunk his nails into the flesh of Usopp’s shoulder. “You okay? What’s the matter?” 

“Nothing.” Sanji curls tighter against Usopp’s chest, tucking his hands into the sheets. “Thinking about a bunch of shit, sorry.” 

“Must be a little more than ‘nothing,’ you tensed up like a rubber band.” Usopp’s hand returns to soothingly stroking his back as he nuzzles against the crown of Sanji’s head. “Honesty, okay? I know something’s bugging you.” 

Sanji fusses, but gradually lets all his stupid worries come spilling out one by one. He rambles about his job and his plans and his meds and the way his head gets stuck on fast forward for days on end, every last thing that’s been keeping him up at night and his attention split during the day. 

“-And when I have days like this, I feel like such a pathetic little shit.” Sanji grumbles rapidly against Usopp’s chest, the arrhythmic patter of the rain outside almost overtaking the music and his voice. “Then you bring me flowers and do all this shit for me, and I just feel even worse. Fuck.” 

“Ah, sorry?” Usopp’s voice sounds bashful and confused above his head. “I didn’t want to get you more down. I wanted to cheer you up.” 

“But that’s just it!” Sanji pushes himself up. Ungrateful can’t go on his list of shitty adjectives to apply to himself, not when it comes to Usopp. “You shouldn’t be doing that for me anymore! I should be better by now!” 

“…So I shouldn’t be nice to you anymore, because you’re still dealing with stuff?” Usopp’s lips press together as he reaches back to push a stray curl behind his ear. “Even if you weren’t, that’s still a pretty ass-backwards statement. You do realize I like being nice to you? That’s kinda part of the boyfriend package.” 

“It’s not that, it’s- fuck.” Sanji sighs and rolls off Usopp, taking part of the sheets with him as he reaches for his smokes. He sits up against the pillows, pushing the window behind them open wider. He draws the smoke in deep, holding onto the burn. “It’s just…you’re all doing all this cool shit and I’m still a goddamn mess. Every time I think I’m okay, something new comes up and I’ve- I’ve been worried that this is as ‘better’ as I’m going to get. I’ll just always be a shitty partner and a shitty friend and a shitty chef who talked big and never followed through.” He exhales a big cloud of smoke over his shoulder. “Fuck, am I even making sense?”

“Plenty, actually.” Usopp says, shuffling up to lean back against the headboard, folding his arms loosely over his bare chest. “I feel that way too, sometimes- Well, I’m definitely a shitty chef, but you know what I mean.” 

“When do you feel like that?” Sanji takes another long, worried drag off his cigarette. 

“Whenever I screw up, I catch myself thinking ‘Oh, this is it, this is when everyone figures out you’re a waste of time and leaves.’” Usopp stares off to the side, speaking again before Sanji can interrupt with a flurry of praise. “It used to happen a lot more in college. I’d get thinking ‘Okay, I have this much in the bank. I can buy a train ticket, put a deposit on a bachelor apartment and start over.’ I knew it was ridiculous. It was- a reflex, I guess. I screw up, I run away. I only actually did it the one time.” 

“And you didn’t get far, thank god.” Sanji flicks his ashes into the ceramic tray just beneath the window sill. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you felt that way-“ 

“No one was supposed to know, is supposed to know.” Usopp chuckles, tugging at the worn edge of his striped wristband. “Kaya notices because she knows me too well. You’ve always noticed it, but I guess you didn’t realize what you were noticing.” 

“What do you mean?” Sanji studies Usopp’s oddly smiling face, burst of affection and reassurance temporarily muzzled. 

“When I’ve been working my ass off and you bring me food because you know I haven’t stopped to eat.” He leans forward and pulls his ponytail loose, redoing it and hiding his eyes for a moment. “Asking me what the hell my problem is when I’m being a snarky ass for no reason. Taking me out for something fun when I’ve been moping, even if it’s just to buy food. You always catch on, and it’s- I have a harder time feeling worthless when you’re around.” 

“Oh,” Sanji says quietly, unable to muster any other response. 

“It did drive me a little crazy when I was crushing on you. ‘Cause we’d be in the deli and you’d be asking me my preference of aged cheese and I’d be standing there thinking about how much I wanted to kiss your stupid face-Anyway, past romantic frustration aside.” Usopp presses a hand to his forehead and laughs, face flushing in the glow from his phone propped up on the speaker cradle. “I used to feel guilty when you’d do that stuff. Like ‘I’ve been miserable to him all day and he still bought me this doughnut, he’s so nice and I’m the worst.’”

Sanji quickly stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray, sliding over and reaching for him. “Usopp, you’re wonderful-“ 

“It’s okay.” Usopp’s hand catches his shoulder and stays there, fingers tracing patterns against his bare skin. “I’m okay, most of the time. And I get now that you do that stuff because you want to make me feel better, and that’s a good thing. I can just eat the damn doughnut and not have an existential crisis about it. You’ll feel a lot better if you do the same with the flowers.” 

Sanji turns away as Usopp’s fingers trace the carefully trimmed line of facial hair along his jaw. “But it’s not enough for me to just sit here and accept gifts and shit from you when I haven’t done anything to deserve-“ 

“Sanji,” Usopp’s voice is stronger now, and he meets Sanji’s eyes with confidence. “You’re enough. You’ve always been enough.” 

Sanji’s tongue is leaden for a few moments, his mind a blank. Usopp pulls him in for a sweet kiss that quickly turns deeper, the affection Sanji dammed earlier roaring forward. Usopp ends up on his back again as their bodies fit together. Sanji’s arms fit under Usopp’s back, fingers tangled in hair, clothes rumpling. 

“Listen for a sec, okay?” Usopp catches his chin between two fingers when Sanji pushes himself up for air. “Now that you’re actually in a position to listen- Don’t laugh, you pervert –I need you to believe that I choose to be with you. I chose not to run away permanently, I chose to kiss you the second time, I chose to move in here. It’s not something you have to earn. It’s always been my decision to be with you.”

The storm rumbles away outside as they pause, take each other in. Thunder claps getting closer and scaring Ryunosuke under the bed. Sanji lets out all his oxygen in one breath and drops his head, pressing their brows together. “You’re amazing, you know that? You’re so much stronger now.” He presses their bodies closer together, sweat beginning to stick where their clothes don’t cover. “Literally and figuratively.” Another kiss, slower this time. 

“Heh, well,” Usopp bites his swollen bottom lip, properly flushed now. “Not to kill the mood, but, when everything happened, I promised myself that if you came back safe, I’d be as strong for you as you’ve always been for me.” 

Sanji looks down at him, scanning for artifice and finding only shaky confidence and endearing beauty. “You’re so much more than that.” He cups his hand against Usopp’s jaw and trades a few more deep kisses. “I’ll prove it to you tomorrow, after I’ve gotten some half-decent sleep. Don’t make plans for after work.” 

“Hah, I believe you. Unless believing you means no oral.” Usopp giggles raucously when Sanji smacks his ribs. Still giggling, he fixes the straps on Sanji’s top and encourages him back down, though they’re laying a bit diagonal now. The album continues to loop softly in the background. It’s too early to sleep, but the rain continues soaking the outside, cooling everything off and insulating them inside, giving them no motivation to move whatsoever. 

Sanji lets his mind drift away, resting his cheek on Usopp’s chest and losing himself in the steady _thump-thump-thump_ of Usopp’s heartbeat beneath his ear. 

*** 

The air is just cold enough to make Sanji’s fingertips sting on the way home from the bus stop. It was warmer when he’d left the car in the driveway that morning, feeling the urge to wander between his errands. He sets his shoes on the rack, hearing noise from Usopp’s studio and heading upstairs. It was supposed to be his day off, but left to his own devices, Usopp might spend his whole life in front of his computer. 

Inside the sewing room-turned-art supply hoard, the source of the noise reveals itself as Usopp singing surprisingly on-key to whatever ridiculous theme song was blasting through his massive headphones. Sanji makes a note to drag him off to a hearing test as some point before lifting one side and half-shouting into Usopp’s ear. “Watching cartoons again?” 

He barely avoids Usopp’s windmilling arms as he scrabbles to catch his falling tablet pen and smack the mute button. “He-ey! I didn’t hear you come home!” Usopp grins up at him, pushing his hopelessly askew black square-framed glasses up his nose. “And for the record, I wasn’t _watching_ it, I was just listening to it while I worked!” 

“Mhm, sure you were.” Sanji chuckles at Usopp’s transparency and leans on the shelf adjacent to his desk, a few niche awards at his elbow. “And how much work have you gotten done?” 

“Not important. Anyway!” Usopp quickly minimizes the video player and the obviously half-done comic page, turning his chair towards Sanji and making a show of resting his chin on his hand and crossing his legs. “How was your day? Please, regale me with your thrilling tales of productivity, I’m all ears.” 

Sanji laughs tartly, then retrieves a new pack of cigarettes from his pocket and slowly peels off the plastic with no intention of lighting one. “You won’t believe who I ran into today.” 

“The Tooth Fairy?” 

Sanji lightly flicks his nose, almost smiling at the indignant pout on his face. “You remember me telling you about Cosette?” 

Usopp’s eyes go wide as saucers. “Not the chef girl from-“ 

“The one and the same.” Sanji crumples the foil from the top of the packet into a tiny ball, pressing it between his fingertips. “Apparently once the gendarmes made sure her story checked out, she got the hell out of there. Stayed in Zurich for a bit, fell in love with a tourist girl from around here, and moved. They got married not too long ago. She was picking out dishes for their new apartment when I ran into her. She seems very happy.” 

“That’s good. I imagine working for them wasn’t all that happy-making.” Usopp reaches over and takes his hand, with the sad, sympathetic look in his eyes that still makes Sanji flinch. “Are you okay? Running into her probably brought some stuff back, I bet.” 

“Kind of, but I was fine. We went for coffee actually.” Sanji squeezes Usopp’s hand, pulling up and sitting on one of the apple crates Usopp had ‘borrowed’ from somewhere and repurposed to store god knows what. “She cried a bit when she first saw me, I felt bad about that. She’s such a sweet, kind girl- That’s one of the things that really pissed me off when I was over there. She wasn’t the only one. They’ve always had a bunch of people they’d suckered into working for them. Treated them like complete shit because they knew they couldn’t say anything- She’s better off here. I’m really glad she’s alright.” 

“Me too. Are you gonna see her again, now you know she’s here?” Usopp’s tone is curious, and just a touch worried. His hand takes Sanji’s free one again and entwines their fingers loosely. 

“Well, that’s the thing.” Sanji pops a cigarette between his teeth, lightly chewing on the end. “She’s been working at a small restaurant out in the East end for quite a while. She’s been saving money, working on a plan for her own restaurant, and- after we’d been talking for a bit, she asked if I’d be her business partner.” 

“Woah, what did you say?” 

“That I’d have to think about it.” Sanji’s fingers tap against Usopp’s knuckles. “Cosette’s more than qualified. I have complete faith in her. And if we combine our plans, our funds, all that shit…I might be able to make my dream come true a hell of a lot sooner.” 

“Do you want to do it?” Usopp searches Sanji’s eyes. “You were so set on it being _your_ restaurant.” 

“I was, but having a partner would make shit a lot easier. Cosette doesn’t want to be away from her wife all the time, and I want to be home with you when I can.” Sanji puts his cigarette away and presses a kiss to Usopp’s palm, indulging in the cute smile he gets in return. “It’s still gonna be hard as shit to get off the ground, but I have contacts from university still. I just hope they remember me as a chef and not a news headline.” 

“If they do, it won’t matter. They were pushing you to open your own place even back then.” Usopp tugs on Sanji’s arm, confusing him until he’s manhandled into Usopp’s lap and soundly kissed. “This is awesome! Are you excited?” 

“I’ll withhold my excitement until opening night, if we get that far.” Sanji settles himself on Usopp’s thighs, trying to balance his weight. “It’s not for lack of confidence, honest. There’s a lot of shit that’s out of my control, out of Cosette’s control too. We have to find a place, go through a fuckton of permits before we can so much as buy flatware, hire decent people- Plus, I have to figure out when to quit my job without screwing myself over. And before we even get started we need convince the bank to give us some money, and what if I cost us the loan because one of the fucking investors sees me at the supermarket in a dress-“ 

“Pause,” Usopp claps his hands to Sanji’s cheeks. “How about we take a nice, deep breath?” 

Sanji obeys in spite of himself, doing one of those long yoga breaths. It does at least stem the headache building at the base of his skull. 

“Good,” Usopp’s hands slacken, cupping his face gently. “Now, answer this question for me: Do you want to set up your restaurant with Cosette?” 

“Yes,” Sanji answers from his gut. He’s trusted Cosette since he tasted her cooking, since he took a punch for her. Having her on board only makes his picture of the future better. “I’m sick of waiting. I need to make this happen and she can help me do it.” 

“Great!” Usopp smiles, face nearly glowing with delight. “Then you can go one step at a time and ask people to help you out. People such as me, who will totally design your website, menus, and whatever else you need, whenever those things are needed. You might wanna find that out, because I know literally nothing about restaurants. I imagine you’d start with the sign, right?” 

“I’m not going to use you as free labour.” Sanji snorts, rubbing at the nicotine patch peeling under his sleeve. 

“Why not? You’d save so much money by paying me in food. Especially if you served it to me in a cute waitress outfit, then I’d be motivated to work even faster.” 

Sanji rolls his eyes at Usopp’s waggling eyebrows. “What if Cosette wants the logo to be in Papyrus?” 

“Then you’ll have to find a new business partner, or a new boyfriend.” Usopp says flatly, all trace of humour gone. He leans back and pulls Sanji in for a cuddle, the chair squeaking but still holding their weight. “You can do this. It’ll all work out and you’ll be great, I’m sure of it.” 

“Says you and everybody since I was in high school.” Sanji sighs, leaning on Usopp’s shoulder. “I don’t wanna let everyone down. What if I’m delusional and I just fuck this all up?” 

“You won’t.” Usopp rubs his knee, his hand making a _zwit-zwit_ sound against the fabric. “Even if something goes wrong, everyone just wants you to be happy and okay. That’s all that really matters.” 

“You’re too good for me.” Sanji hums, kissing Usopp’s cheek and trying to draw strength from those words. “How was your day besides watching cartoons?” 

“Hm, well,” Usopp scratches thoughtfully at his beard while Sanji relaxes against him. “I fixed the shovel that Luffy broke, went for a jog with Zoro- oh! I also found a forum thread about how well I draw butts. Not sure why it exists, I’m a little concerned.” 

“Your characters do have exceptionally perky asses.” 

“Not all of them! And is it really worth a whole meta-discussion? Like, we are talking multiple pages, with screenshots and- stop laughing, damn it! I’m having an artistic crisis here!” 

*** 

Time, sleep, and Sanji’s attempt at reducing his smoking are sacrificed to bring the restaurant to life, but it’s worth it. Cosette is every inch the capable head chef Sanji knew her to be, and generous enough to let him pick the name. With help from many hands, All Blue holds its soft opening, blessedly air-conditioned in the dead heat of late summer. 

It’s not a big place, but it’s his. He co-owns it. The chefs answer to him. Though the relatively small seating area is packed shoulder-to-shoulder all night (Perhaps he should have been a little firmer about limiting Luffy’s plus-ones), Sanji’s face aches from smiling so much. He’s glad they’re on a limited menu for tonight. He can barely take three steps without someone stopping him, let alone get back to the kitchen. 

Like clockwork, a purple-gloved hand grabs his jacket sleeve as he’s wading through the crowd in search of Zeff, and he turns to find Ivankov’s familiar made-up face. “Sanji darling! It’s been forever! My sincere congratulations, what a wonderful place you have here! What I can see of it, anyway.” 

Sanji chuckles, in too good of a mood to feel awkward. “Thank you, I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” 

“Luffy keeps me updated on all the news from you young folks here. You know how he is, talks more in an hour than his father has in his whole life!” Ivankov lets out another cackle just as Sanji hears intensifying shouts of excitement from near the bar. He last saw Luffy and his brothers over there, but Usopp and Zoro would keep them contained before Zeff got a hold of them. Hopefully. 

His bedazzled companion notices his concern and releases his arm. “You ought to come up and visit! I see that lovely lady friend of yours and her beau around town all the time. You could kill two birds with one stone. Your sparkling personality is well missed at the house.” 

“I’m sure,” Sanji rolls his eyes. The shouts at the bar die down quickly, and he remembers all the gaps he’s been trying to close since the Vinsmokes sent his life off the rails. “Actually, I’ll come up when I can. Whenever the fuck that is, but I’ll figure something out.” 

“Sounds splendid,” Ivankov sips their drink merrily. They catch Sanji’s elbow just before he walks off, voice lowering to barely audible above the hum of the crowd. “Oh, just because Luffy’s been showing me all his photos from your lovely parties, I was wondering which pronouns you use?” 

“Oh.” Sanji blanks. He’d considered it, but other pronouns fit oddly, like he hadn’t earned the right to use them. “I’m still just- Sanji.” 

“Well Just-Sanji, you’re welcome at ours any time. Bring that young man of yours if you want, he’s awfully cute.” Ivankov winks, chortling again as Sanji shakes them off with an exasperated curse, plunging into the well-liquored crowd once more. 

The early days of All Blue are fraught and hectic, but Sanji makes good on his promise a few months later when Cosette strong-arms him into a day off. He drops off Franky and Robin, respectively hungover from trying everything on the drink menu the night before and exceedingly amused, and carries on into the heart of the city. He’s brought some gifts in silent, ham-fisted apology for his behaviour the last time he was here. A few casseroles, some wine, enough desserts to go around, nothing big. Ivankov’s co-op house is as bustling and communal as ever. Hardly anything’s changed from his summer internship. Even the glitter stains in the bathroom and the bookshelf of interestingly-titled literature he so often paused in front of are just as they were. 

He’s dolled up in an off the shoulder black sweater, a blue sleeveless top and grey pencil skirt, warm tights underneath. For himself, because that’s how he woke up feeling, but it fits the atmosphere well. Ivankov’s ever-expanding cadre of femmes is just as boisterous and extroverted as he remembers. He tries to tolerate the hugs, the noise, and the jokes at his expense as best he can, because he owes them this. Being angry at them was easier than admitting he was one of them, and the shame burns quietly hotter than his rage ever did. 

They don’t seem to hold a grudge, seemingly pleased that sense they smacked into him stuck. They repeatedly fill his ginger ale for him and ask a thousand and one questions, far too many pertaining to his love life. Conversation turns to reminiscence, unsurprising when he’s the youngest in the room by ten years or so. He picks at his desserts and listens quietly to hardships and triumphs past, growing more and more disappointed in himself for skipping out on these conversations before. 

“You know, they say young people have it easier nowadays, but I don’t think that’s true.” Inazuma comments, slowly swirling zir drink. “Some things are better, but it’s still an uphill battle. What do you think, Sanji?” 

“Oh, well, I only- dress like this part of the time, so I- wouldn’t really know.” 

“Ah, but that carries its own downsides. Still,” Zir lips curl into a rare smile. “It’s fun to keep them guessing, isn’t it?” 

Sanji half-nods, unsure of how to respond, and snaps his head up at the touch of Iva’s well-manicured hand on his shoulder. 

“Sanji’s got that youthful resiliency, don’t you, dear?” Iva leans in, patting him affectionately. “That creative spark you can only capture in the springtime of your life.” 

Sanji raises his curled eyebrows. “Springtime, eh? What season does that make you?” 

“Midsummer, obviously, you cheeky boy!” A smack to his shoulder almost spills Sanji’s drink. “You know where he gets that from? Dragon’s son, I tell you it’s contagious!” 

Fitting in at Miracle House never seemed like a possibility, even after he’d somewhat accidentally come out to Usopp. He has no label, no history of rejection apart from the Vinsmokes, he still slips on his ‘Ally’ t-shirt at Pride, much to his friends’ surprise. He was being welcomed into a community that doesn’t feel like his yet. He couldn’t quite label the feeling, but it reminds him of sitting in ESL tutoring not long after Zeff had brought him here.

The hour grows late, and Sanji lets himself be hair-ruffled and hugged repeatedly before Ivankov walks him out. While he’s slipping on his light leather jacket, Ivankov steps into the kitchen and returns with a large paper shopping bag overflowing with clothes that he nearly drops from the weight of it. “Shit, did you put bricks in here or what?” 

“Just a few books and things,” Ivankov waves a hand dismissively. “A little something from everyone to welcome back our favourite candy boy.” 

“You don’t need to do this,” Sanji grunts, hoisting the bag onto his wrist and digging blindly for his car keys. A purse might be a good investment. Pockets on women’s clothes were fucking useless. “I came up here for your benefit.” 

“And your desserts were terribly beneficial indeed.” Ivankov reaches out and does up the zipper on Sanji’s jacket before he can say anything, plucking the keys from his side pocket and handing them to him. “Do come up again, we need more youthful energy around here.” 

“You have enough energy to power a small country,” Sanji replies, though he’s smiling a little. “But I’ll try. Let me know if you want specific desserts next time.” 

One last annoying hair-ruffle and hug, and he’s on his way home. He finds Usopp and Luffy in the living room, gaming it up in their boxers while the dryer hums and shudders in the hallway closet. Usopp notices the bag he sets down, his character falling off the edge of the platform while Luffy stays focused. “Were they having a yard sale or something?” 

“I think,” Sanji licks his lips, still tasting the fizz of ginger ale. “I think they threw me a coming of age party?” 

“Huh, cool.” Usopp digs through the clothes while Luffy triumphantly finishes the level, pulling out a lump of rabbit-print fabric. “Can I have this scarf if you don’t want it?” 

All-Blue, at first completely overwhelming, quickly becomes routine. The staff is a mixture of young grads and old hands, but Sanji finds himself liking the younger ones a little better. They were picked for their enthusiasm and skill, with maybe a smidge of bias to the ones that might be passed over by stricter establishments. 

“Alright!” Sanji calls out, quickly scrubbing up in the back sink. “I’m on supper break. Don’t bother me unless something or someone is on fucking fire.” 

An amused chorus of “Yes, chef!” rings out, and Sanji grins, gliding out of the kitchen with plates balanced carefully on both arms. He notes the dinner rush is thankfully all but over, and slides into the back booth beside Usopp, who’s hard at work on his laptop and the breadsticks in front of him. “I believe you ordered the four-cheese pasta and medium-rare steak, sir?” 

“Oh God yes, you’re a gift.” Sanji pecks his forehead and Usopp leans onto him, massaging his drawing hand. “This stupid book design is due tomorrow, and the client is still asking me if they can have blue text on a blue background. Plus I promised my readers a double update on Saturday to wrap up the cliffhanger, and Heracles needs me in tomorrow morning. I’ve officially contracted the I’m-Losing-My-Damn-Mind Disease.” 

“That sounds serious. Is it fatal?” Sanji hides a smile as he chews a forkful of his chicken penne. 

“Oh, absolutely. Without an intense and immediate treatment of backrubs from my hot topless boyfriend, I’ll surely fade away.” Usopp looks up at him with big puppy eyes, even weakly holding up his fork to complete the effect. 

“Well, it was nice knowing you. I’ll send flowers.” 

“You’re such an ass.” Usopp tuts, but stays close against him anyways, turning his attention onto his much-needed dinner. 

“Oh, by the way, I have something to show you.” Sanji digs in his shirt pocket, snagging his phone amongst the loose change and lint. Purse. Tomorrow. Where did you buy those anyway? 

“Did Ace accidentally send you a dick pic again?” 

“No, and it wasn’t an accident the last time.” Sanji taps around until he finds the email. “You know how my lawyer was going after the Vinsmoke assets?” 

“Yeah?” Usopp purses his lips, a dot of sauce at the corner of his mouth. “I thought it was all seized by the police. Profits of crime and whatever.” 

“It was, but some of it was legitimate. They had property and antiques that had been in the family since the sixteenth century.” Sanji zooms in on the end of the email and hands it to Usopp. “Took a lot of fucking red tape, but she snagged me a settlement. Doesn’t make up for shit, but I’d rather take it than have it sit in their prison tuck shop accounts or whatever.” 

“That is a not-insignificant number of decimal points.” Usopp flicks around the email, balking a little. “That’s only half of it? So, that means…Reiju got the rest?” 

“I’m assuming so.” Sanji takes a large bite of his own dinner, focusing on the taste for a second. “I hope she did. She wasn’t like the rest of them. I don’t want to see her again, but I don’t want her to have a shitty life, either. Same for Pudding, I hope she got to open that cake shop and go on with her life.” 

“Y’know, for an ass, you can be really sweet sometimes.” Usopp chuckles, fondly rubbing Sanji’s knee while the other man half-glares at him. “So what do you wanna do with it? It’s your money now.” 

“No, it’s our money.” Sanji covers Usopp’s hand with his own. He doesn’t want to broach the topic on the tip of his tongue just yet, not with other people around. “I want to put it away for now. Save it for emergencies, a trip, maybe an education fund for, you know, when we have a kid.” 

“You always pull such a weird face when we talk about our theoretical future offspring.” Usopp rests his head on his other hand, his voice low in the dull hum of the restaurant. “Are you worried that the Vinsmokes would come after them?” 

“No, I know they can’t.” Sanji shakes his head, not convincing himself all that well. If there had been a point where he felt completely safe, it was gone. He just had to live with it. “I just- I really want the kid to be mine, biologically, I mean.” He pauses and Usopp nods patiently, they’ve gone over this before. “And I got thinking, because we still can’t find any records of my mother- almost like she never existed, which is such bullshit- so I have no idea if quadruplets ran in her family or if it was a fluke or what. But if it happened again…” 

“Sanji,” Usopp sighs, voice hushed and eyes glancing around to see if any waitstaff are cleaning too close to their table. “You didn’t make her sick.” 

“I fucking know that, but four babies-“ 

“She could’ve had one or a dozen and the outcome would have been the same. Don’t carry that around.” He intertwines their fingers, ignoring his dinner completely. “Even if we landed ourselves with four babies at once, which is all kinds of unlikely, it would be fine. No one’s going to die.” 

Sanji squeezes back and returns to his pasta, knowing any of his employees could stroll by and see one of their bosses acting like a mopey child. “M’sorry. Sometimes shit still sneaks up on me.” 

“It’s fine.” Usopp pats Sanji’s leg and nibbles at his own food. “Y’know, my mom lost her own mom kinda young too. Weird things would happen around the anniversary of her death. Like a door being open when nobody opened it, or house keys going missing and turning up in weird spots.” 

“Oh yeah?” Sanji’s voice lacks his usual incredulousness at Usopp’s tales, instead being tinged with guilt knowing Usopp’s trying to distract him. 

“I remember that ‘cause she’d always tell me ‘Oh, that’s my Mama, telling me not to be sad again. See? Mothers give their children a hard time even when they’re not around anymore.’” Usopp chuckles, twirling his pasta around and around his fork. “I think she said it to keep me from worrying about ghosts. But now if something like that happens to me, I’m like ‘Oh, sorry Mom,’ and try to think about something else.” 

Sanji takes a few deep swallows of his water, lest his let’s-not-cry-at-table-fifteen plan falls apart. “…You know, she used to wear this really particular perfume- I think it was a special order from somewhere. She wore it right till the end and sometimes, out of nowhere, I’ll swear I can smell it.” He stabs at his food, wincing at the scrape of steel on ceramic. “But I think that’s just me being a little fucking nuts.” 

“Nah, memory can be like that. Or, maybe ghosts are real.” Usopp hums, twiddling his fork, then suddenly laughs. “Maybe your ghost-mom and my ghost-mom hang out!” 

“God, you’re so fucking ridiculous.” Sanji has to fight down a smile at the cheeky look on Usopp’s face, those intelligent eyes glittering with mischief as usual despite the downer mood Sanji had created. 

“Hey, who’s to say they don’t? Can you say for sure?” The younger man crosses his arms dramatically. “Maybe they’ve been playing matchmaker from the other side, colluding to ensure they get a grandchild. Would be nice if they could babysit, but I’m pretty sure leaving a baby with a ghost counts as child neglect.” 

Sanji shakes his head and gives Usopp a little shove. He hides behind a half-smile for the rest of their dinner. His thoughts on the future, on what that money could do for them, and the way Usopp talked about them making a family as if it were inevitable. 

*** 

A few days before New Year’s Eve, Sanji puts his plan into action. He switches his day off with Cosette, bringing her a box of chocolates in thanks and sidestepping her smiling, suspicious accusations. Zoro and Luffy are bribed into staying as far away from the house as possible for the night, and Sanji shares his plan with only Nami, who beams and promises to keep everyone else at bay in lieu of a gift. 

Sanji whisks Usopp away from his desk for a day to themselves amidst the holiday chaos. They go to the expensive cinema with couches and full food service for a re-release of one of the animated films that Usopp knows every word to. It’s enjoyable enough, but Sanji can’t stop subtly sneaking a hand into his pocket to ensure the box is still there. While they characters onscreen march into their final battle and Usopp clutches his popcorn, Sanji recites his planned script over and over in his head. 

At home, he draws a hot bath for Usopp and gets dinner together, folding down the large drop-leaf table for a more intimate setting. Candles, along with Usopp’s favourite dish and a bottle of white wine from the same year as the one that was partly responsible for their first kiss, complete the picture. It started snowing on their way home, and by the time Usopp shuffles downstairs in his orange lounge pants, their yard and the street beyond are glowing faintly blue with a layer of perfect white fluff. The noise from outside seems muted, making Sanji’s heartbeat almost audible in his chest. 

“Candles and everything? You never quit, do you?” Usopp says lightly, kissing Sanji’s cheek as he’s led to his seat. 

Dinner is devoured with gusto as usual and conversation sticks to light topics, but Usopp seems distracted, hitting the wine a little harder than usual. Sanji tries to brush it off as tiredness, bundling them under a heavy blanket on the couch near the heater, lights off and wine glasses still in hand. He doesn’t mind a nap, they’ve got plenty of time, but Usopp remains tense despite Sanji’s affectionate, kneading touches. 

He sets his empty glass down with a loud _clink_ and looks over at Sanji, worry knitting his expression into a frown. “Ah, listen, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk about for a while.” 

“Oh? What’s that?” Sanji plasters on a neutral expression and swallows a curse. If something’s wrong, he needs to know, and the rings will have to wait another day. Dammit, he should have accounted for this. 

“Well, I’ve just been thinking.” Usopp folds his hands under the blanket, ringing them. “About the future. You know, how life is short, and I only have so many stories and drawings in me, only so much time to spend with the people I care about, that kind of stuff.” 

“That’s pretty dark.” Sanji tastes worry on his own tongue now. “Is everything okay?” 

“Heh, yeah of course! I’m fine! It’s just- made me think a lot about my life and how I want to spend it.” Usopp rubs the back of his neck, flush growing on his cheeks. “We’re coming up on six years- Wow, that sounds way longer now that I’m actually saying it. That means I’ve known you for nine years already, damn- but anyway, the point is, you know, we’ve both changed so much because of all the stuff that’s happened- Hang on, I’m losing my point.” 

Sanji’s throat starts to tighten, an edge creeping into his voice. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing! Nothing at all! I just- wow, my timing, and this date thing, I really am sorry, but I literally can’t stop thinking about this-” Usopp sucks in a shaky breath and his hands are clammy against Sanji’s own. “Would you- would you like to marry me?” 

Sanji’s brain completely stalls out, leaving him speechless for a moment, before he laughs out loud. “Damn, you really do have the worst timing.” 

“The hell does that mean? Do you not-oh.” Sanji presses the small box into Usopp’s hand before doubt can creep in. Usopp’s face when he sees the two silver rings set with small diamonds almost gets Sanji laughing again. “Oh no! That’s why you had this whole- I didn’t even think we were going to do rings! Why didn’t you say something? What the hell am I supposed to give you now, an engagement high-five?” 

“Just put the damn thing on, Longnose.” Sanji slips on his own and takes the initiative for Usopp while he continues to stare, flabbergasted, until their lips meet. “All I wanted was an answer.” 

They stay on the couch, feet tangled in the blanket as they grab and shift against each other. Sanji figures he’s steam-cleaned after Luffy and Zoro’s escapades often enough, it’s their turn now. Every nerve in his body sings with excitement each time he feels the cool press of Usopp’s ring against his skin. His mind is overflowing, a million different thoughts at once, but he needs touch and he needs it right this second. His kisses are rough, wanting to leave a mark and be marked in turn. Slow and passionate will have to wait for round two. 

“Mm, wait. Sanji, wait a second.” Usopp groans, pushing Sanji back as his hands tease the most sensitive spots under his shirt. “We- we really should call my dad while it’s still daytime where he is. He’ll kill me if he’s the last one to know.” 

“He already knows.” Sanji murmurs, moving back to kiss down the soft trail of hair on Usopp’s stomach. “I called him a month ago to ask for his blessing.” 

“Did you really,” Usopp pushes himself up on his elbows to glower at Sanji, pupils blown too wide for it to be very effective. “And did you also offer three cows and a sack of grain in exchange for my hand?” 

“Of course not.” Sanji smiles wide from between Usopp’s legs like the smug, lucky bastard he is. “You’re worth one cow, at best.” 

Yasopp does get called the next day, as does everyone who isn’t able to run over and pile into their living room as soon as they read the announcement in the group chat. A date in mid-September is quickly decided, and they dive headfirst into wedding planning. Amidst regular work and episodes of matrimony-related stress, Sanji is grateful of their mutual tolerance for insomnia and lengthy DIY projects. 

Arranging a party for a hundred-plus people comes with more than its share of surprises, the biggest of all in the form of Yasopp ditching his shipmates in Sri Lanka for a few months to come help with the wedding. Usopp’s excitement levels hit the roof, and don’t taper off until they wake up at the asscrack of dawn to drive to the airport. 

Sanji tries to finds his excitement again, at the bottom of his morning coffee. Numerous phone and video calls didn’t compare to sitting in the same room as your boyfriend’s father. He would be more excited if Usopp hadn’t gone monastery-level silent since they’d woken up. Right. “Hey, are you upset with your dad?” 

“For taking the red-eye flight? It was kinda the only option.” Usopp plays with the visor, squinting his way through the early morning traffic. “We’re almost there, I think. What turn do I take here?” 

“Left. And I meant for the- the being gone thing.” Eloquence was clearly out of reach at 4:50am. 

“Oh.” Usopp stills, eyes on the road. “No, well- We’ve talked about it, sort of. And I’ve put some things together now that I’m older. They never planned for Mom to just- go like that. I mean, his options were set me up with Kaya’s family or take me with him and do what? Give up his dream, move us a million miles away, start from scratch?” 

“Would you have rather gone with him?” Sanji watches Usopp’s face closely, thumbing his lighter. “He’s your dad, it’s okay if you’re pissed at him for that. I can kick Luffy and the mosshead out of the house if you two need some alone time.” 

“Hah, no, I’m not mad about it anymore.” Usopp chews on his bottom lip, shifting in his seat as the airport parking comes into distant, dismal view. “I mean, maybe we’d have done just fine, but…I don’t want to picture that life anymore, without you and Luffy and everyone. I’m sure Johannesburg is a great place, but this is my home, and Shanks’ ship is Dad’s home. We’re both happy, that’s all Mom would have wanted. That’s what they worked so hard for.” 

Sanji feels envious on Usopp’s behalf, that he can’t see the faint, achingly sweet smile, the way his prominent nose turns up a bit, and the thoughtful creases next to his long eyelashes, cast into shadow as the summer sun heaves itself over the horizon and paints everything a bleeding yellow. Sanji couldn’t be luckier. 

He settles his hand on Usopp’s bare thigh, just at the edge of his purple board shorts, rubbing his thumb affectionately over warm skin and catching on stubbly hair. He’ll have to steal a good kiss once they park, so as not to distract his adorable fiancé and land them halfway across the sidewalk. “It’ll be good for both of you. I bet he misses you like hell.” 

“Yeah,” Usopp manages an almost-grin. “I hope so.” 

Getting up early turns out to be a waste of time. Tired travelers stagger their way out of customs one by one, but Usopp’s dad is nowhere to be seen for upwards of an hour. He’d sent a text when he landed, so at least he was here. They try to relax on a hard plastic bench while Usopp frets over all the reasons he could be delayed, until he runs out and is reduced to playing mindless puzzle games on his phone. 

Sanji’s nearly nodded off when a loud holler echoes across the lounge area and Usopp’s on his feet and gone in an instant. “There’s my boy! C’mere and hug your old man!” 

Sanji looks up in time to see a Yasopp hoisting Usopp into his arms as if he’s no bigger than a cocker spaniel. “Dad! People are staring, put me down- ah! Down, down now please!” 

“Aw, you’re no fun. Where’s your-Ah, there he is!” Yasopp pulls Sanji into an asphyxiating one-armed hug as soon as he walks up, while Usopp looks on sympathetically. “God, it’s good to see your faces! Sorry I kept you waiting so long. I brought food with me so they had to tear all my bags apart and check for bugs. I should’ve known better, but I couldn’t just show up with no housewarming gift, y’know? Anyway, which way to your car?” 

Sanji drives them back, with Usopp hanging into the front seat and chattering to his dad non-stop. Once they’re back and Yasopp is settled into the small spare bedroom they keep downstairs for the variety of guests tramping in and out of their home, Sanji leaves for his evening shift. His departure is barely acknowledged, but he doesn’t begrudge it a bit. 

Later, he hears them before he sees them, their loud laughter and animated conversation audible whenever the kitchen doors swing open. The staff glance at each other, surprised to hear Usopp making that much ruckus without Luffy present. Sanji simply smiles and joins them after the rush, plates of his best dishes in hand. He slides in beside Usopp, glad for the pause as the two shove their empty appetizer plates aside and dig into their food

“Oh wow,” Yasopp breathes in awe after tasting his shrimp scampi. “And I thought Usopp might be exaggerating. This is amazing!” 

“I told you,” Usopp boasts between bites of his own food. Sanji beams like a thousand-watt lightbulb beside him. “Sanji makes the best food. You’re ruined for all other restaurants now.” 

“I guess so! Damn, you picked a keeper.” Yasopp demolishes a few more mouthfuls with a sly smile. “Got your mother’s good taste in men, eh?” 

“That’s insulting to Sanji, and Mom.” Usopp grins back, and the two playfully kick each other under the table, making ripples in their water glasses. Sanji might be in for an interesting three months. 

“If you like the scampi that much, I can ask Zeff to put it on the menu for the reception.” Sanji folds his hands, still feeling the pressure to impress, even though Yasopp is miles away from intimidating. “I’m going to visit him this weekend and smooth out the details.” 

“I thought we were going to pick out the rings this weekend?” Usopp asks, mopping the sauce off his plate with his bread even though Sanji’s told him to stop doing that since freshman year. 

“And call the florist, order favours, talk to Brook, figure out the program. We’re doing all of that this weekend.” Sanji rubs one eye, feeling the list begin to scroll behind his eyelids. “And you still need to go pick out a suit. I’m already on my second fitting.” 

“Suits require multiple fittings?” Usopp whines and slumps against the table, half a breadstick still firmly clenched in his hand. “Why is this so complicated? Can’t we just invite everybody to show up, watch us kiss, then eat and dance till they wanna leave?” 

“I tried to warn ya,” Yasopp interjects, gesturing with his fork. “You should’ve done it like me and Banchina. Run off together and make things up on the way, worked out well for us. Well, mostly.” 

“Oh man, Sanji hasn’t heard that story yet!” Usopp pops back up, cloud of wedding woe abruptly dissipated. “You gotta tell it! You know it better than I do.” 

“Hah, alright. So, we’re on this bus and it’s raining like y’wouldn’t believe-“ 

“Nonono, you gotta start earlier than that! Otherwise the ending won’t make sense!” 

“Right, right! Okay- so earlier- and I mean in the wee hours, it was pitch dark, still -I sneak over Banchina’s back fence after her aunt and uncle had banned me from seeing her for the twelfth time or so…” 

Sanji takes small, thoughtful bites of his risotto while he watches the questionably-true, but still very entertaining tale play out. Not so much the content of the story, but the way each man cuts the other off to add missing bits, adding their own flairs as their energy levels climb. Usopp’s sweeping, theatrical gestures seem to be a result of genetic inheritance, as is the laugh that should be too ridiculous and the smile that should be too childish but instead serve to make them magnetically appealing. Sanji finds himself wondering if Usopp will have his dad’s laugh lines when he’s older, or if Yasopp has noticed his son intentionally slouching to hide the fact that he’s outgrown his father by two inches.

It makes Sanji feel envious, and then resent himself for feeling that way. 

He and Zeff share a surname, for now, a home that still contains Sanji’s mostly untouched childhood bedroom, and a hard-won bond that would see either of them give up a kidney for the other if it came down to that (not that either of them would accept it). But their relationship was always partly a working relationship. Sanji had been as much an apprentice as a child to him, and he preferred it that way. But his adoptee status meant there was no shared family narrative. No hand-me-down stories, no anecdotes of his first bike ride or his first day at school, not even baby pictures. If Zeff had family stories of his own, he didn’t consider them worth mentioning. 

Usopp and Yasopp probably wouldn’t be able to sustain their constant laughter for three months. If the pain still sounds fresh from Usopp’s lips, then his father is likely hiding his own heartache. His wedding band still sits firmly on his left ring finger, and some grim, quick math tells Sanji it’s been sitting without its pair for nearly twenty years. 

There is nothing worth envying about two decades of pain and distance, but watching the two of them still glowing with happiness just at being near each other makes him feel petty and small. Usopp had been welcomed into the world with love and excitement, Sanji had to wait a little longer. 

“-And once the police cleared us of any involvement, we ran right back out into the rain and took off for our honeymoon! All the flash flood warnings were still on, mind you. I was actually willing to stay put, but Banchina insisted I owed her a hot shower and a comfortable bed after what I’d put her through, and do you think I could ever say no to her?” Yasopp shrugs, grinning with near-blinding pride. “’Course not! Even when she dragged me up to this frozen corner of the world. But of course, having this one more than made up for it. Hit the jackpot on the first go, that’s why we didn’t have anymore.” 

“Daaaad.” Usopp whinges, sounding and looking about half his age. “That’s not why, you’re just picking on me.” 

“Aw, come on. Sanji, back me up here!” Yasopp turns to face him, making Sanji twitch out of his thoughts. “Did my boy turn out great or what?” 

“He certainly did.” Sanji says with a smile, amused by how Usopp blushes even more from all the attention. 

“See? Two to one, you lose.” Yasopp tugs Usopp’s beanie back down, leaving it only slightly less askew and going back to his dinner. “Say, do you two have a honeymoon planned yet? I know some great spots.” 

Sanji returns to the background of their conversation and they eventually head home, Sanji leaving the senior staff to handle the rest of the evening. Zoro and Luffy add a new layer of excitement. It’s like when they first moved in together, before life wore a sense of maturity into them. The selfish thoughts from earlier are still creeping in, so Sanji appreciates the din as a distraction until he slips upstairs for a cool bath just before bed. 

He ends up dozing off for a bit, just long enough for the water to go unpleasantly lukewarm. He ties his hair up, gets ready for bed and pauses at the top of the stairs, hearing nothing but the low buzz of the TV and wondering if he should go down in just his summer pajamas and long, light blue dressing gown. But then, he’s walked past enough Skype calls like this, and Yasopp hasn’t said anything yet. 

Downstairs, lit only by the dim blue glow of the television, Usopp lays curled into a half-ball against his dad’s side. Yasopp looks up from toying with the remote and smiles, his voice much softer than earlier. “Thought y’might’ve drowned up there. This one conked out like somebody yanked out his batteries.” He shifts his arm to lie more comfortably across Usopp’s snoring, drooling form. “Figured between the two of us we could get him up to bed.” 

“Maybe we should leave him here.” Sanji hums, pulling his belt tighter and folding his arms. “He has a hard time getting back to sleep if he wakes up.”

“Still, eh? So much for growing out of it.” Yasopp lightly ruffles Usopp’s loose curls and glances up at Sanji. “You’ve been quiet tonight. Not still scared of me, are ya? No shovel talk, I promise.” 

“No, no, of course not.” Sanji coughs, leaning against the arm of the couch. His hands itch for a smoke. Would Yasopp care? Being around sailors, he probably didn’t give a damn. “It’s nothing.” 

“Nothing, huh? Hah!” Yasopp shakes his head, the laugh puffing out of him like the cough of an old engine. “That’s Usopp’s favourite word, too. Y’can tell me. I might be a shit dad, but I’m yours now too. You’re as stuck with me as he is.” 

Sanji nearly bites his tongue in surprise, meeting Yasopp’s somber gaze. “…He doesn’t resent you, you know. He thinks the world of you.” 

Yasopp hums, letting his head fall back and grimacing, as if his neck is stiff. “You’re a sweet kid, Sanji, but y’don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Sanji feels his hackles go up. “That’s not-“ 

“Don’t worry about anything to do with me, alright? Not yours to worry about.” Usopp snuffles and shifts in his sleep, making Yasopp automatically rub soothing circles into his shoulder. “You just worry about taking care of my boy, that’s all I care about.” 

“Goddammit, you’re more of a martyr than he is.” Sanji snaps his jaw shut so fast his teeth click, but Yasopp just laughs at him. 

“Well damn, he had to get it from somewhere, didn’t he?” Yasopp chuckles and looks down at Usopp with the kind of fondness Sanji wants to have someday. “Don’t get stuck on earning my approval, it’s his that I worry about. And he’s crazy about you, so I’m not worried.”

Sanji feels his ears burn a little. His fiancé snores a little louder and leans harder on Yasopp. Probably dreaming, hopefully nothing stressful. He pulls his robe tight around him and stares off to the side, nicotine urge climbing. “I’ll take care of him, I promise. His happiness means- it’s everything, after all he’s done for me.” 

“Tch, now who’s a martyr?” Yasopp chuckles again, wearing that easy smile, but Sanji can feel the weight of his gaze. His voice takes on the same soft, sad tone Usopp’s often does in the late hours. “Y’really are a good kid, I’m glad my boy has you.” 

“Thank you,” Sanji gulps, voice stiff. “And I meant what I said earlier, he’s lucky to have you.” 

Yasopp sighs, though there’s warmth in his voice. “I’ll believe that you believe that, and we’ll call it even.” 

*** 

With everyone’s assistance and without any casualties, the wedding comes upon them. They squeeze everything they could possibly need into their car, along with Yasopp and his luggage, and drive three hours with friends in tow to a little tourist-y hamlet on the shores of a wide lake, surrounded by forest. It’s not the ocean Sanji likes to daydream about, but that can be saved for another time. 

From the time he wakes up in an empty bed, ushered by Chopper out the door and into one of the suites at the hall, to when he’s being primped and preened by the girls when they’re not running around getting themselves ready, Sanji feels like he’s in a dream. Not in the numb, negative way his dissociative episodes feel, but like so many synapses are firing with excitement and nerves that his brain can’t be bothered to process time. 

“Don’t breathe.” Nami shields his eyes and spritzes a layer of hairspray over his crown. She smiles at her work, a vision in her pale green tea-length dress, and then frowns. “Oh, you’ve got lint all over- I still have to do my hair, Vivi, can you?” 

“I’m on it!” The girls share a quick smooch as Nami clicks off to the adjacent bathroom. Vivi takes a seat beside him and unzips the toiletry bag, giving him a once-over with the lint roller before pulling out a few palettes and clipping his bangs back. “Are you nervous?” 

“About the million things that could go wrong and possibly ruin everything? Of course not.” Sanji smiles, holding still as she dabs foundation onto him. 

“Everything’s going to be fine.” Vivi pushes her bracelets out of the way, the same vibrant blue as the rest of her outfit. “I asked my father for wedding advice, he said to take a deep breath when you get up there and look around at everyone who came to support you. He said he stopped panicking after he did that.” 

“Advice duly noted, send him my thanks.” Sanji shuts his eyes and lets her brush soft neutral colours across his face until she pronounces him “Perfect!” and hurries away to check on the guests. 

“The flowers are here!” Robin’s soft voice calls out just as he’s about to step out for his last smoke as a bachelor. She tucks her bouquet into the front pocket of her dress. The pink flowers a lovely contrast to the dark purple, and helps him pin on his boutonniere. “It doesn’t feel real, does it?” 

“Not even a little bit.” Sanji’s stomach does a small flip while she smooths out his lapels. 

“It will soon. Here,” Robin drops a small wrapped chocolate into his hand. “Low blood sugar and stress can lead to dizzy spells. It would be a shame if you missed your own reception due to a concussion.” 

Sanji pops the sweet in his mouth, stomach rumbling from hunger or anxiety, he’s not sure. “You’re an angel.” 

“T-minus fifteen minutes to the ceremony!” Nami calls out, hot iron still in hand, anxiously tapping her foot as she coaxes her red hair to curl. 

Robin slips into the hall to check on something and Vivi returns with a cheeky smile. “The guests are almost all seated, and the boys and Kaya are dressed and ready to go.” 

 

“Even Luffy? Circle the damn calendar!” Nami’s voice echoes from bathroom. 

“How’s Usopp?” Sanji asks, redoing his tie needlessly. 

“Vibrating, but otherwise fine.” Vivi kindly rubs his shoulder. “I told him you were the same and he seemed to feel better.” 

Sanji smokes, sits, and tries to breathe. Before he knows it, he’s standing just around the corner from the hallway that leads outside, listening to Brook strike up the piano. He watches Chopper scurry back and forth, pairing Nami, Robin, and Vivi off with Luffy, Zoro, and Kaya. 

Zeff stands at his side, having pulled a suit jacket on after leaving the food to simmer. He takes Sanji’s arm with feigned reluctance and mutters. “Last chance to run if you’ve got cold feet.” 

“As if I fucking would, you stupid old geezer!” Sanji hisses, hearing Yasopp and Usopp giggle their way outside. 

“You had better not. That boy’s the best thing you’ve got going for you, eggplant.” 

“I don’t need you to tell me that!” Sanji barks, but their bickering is cut off by a blue-suited Chopper rapidly waving them towards the door. 

Once outside, Sanji doesn’t notice the set-up of the chairs or if all the guests have arrived or if the goddamn lake is on fire. He sees Usopp, looking exceedingly handsome in a black suit and smiling from ear to ear, and nothing else matters. Even at the press of Usopp’s clammy hands in his own, he can’t believe it’s all real. 

Brook begins his (pre-edited for stupid jokes and puns) speech, which turned out quite touching, but Sanji can barely hear it. He follows Vivi’s advice and takes a deep breath, looking out at the crowd of friends, at Shanks repeatedly passing tissues to Yasopp, at Franky honking uninhibitedly into his sleeve, at the Baratie chefs near the back looking bored, at Luffy rocking back and forth on his heels behind Usopp, and back at him. 

Their vows are specific, personal promises to each other that they’d practiced in the shower and the car for months, though Usopp still manages to say “wengths and streaknesses” and crack up everyone to his visible and adorable dismay. Sanji also silently promises himself to keep working to be worthy of all this love, all this happiness that’s being handed to him today. He feels deeply overwhelmed, but not scared as they kiss amid cheers and Brook’s familiar jaunty laugh. 

Sanji understands the necessity of groomspeople when theirs have to practically drag him and Usopp through the throng of congratulatory, hug-happy guests to their seats so dinner can begin. Even then, they barely get a moment to themselves until the tables are pulled away and Franky hops onto the DJ platform. 

He nuzzles Usopp’s temple as they sway through the paired-off crowd to the soft tune of ‘La Vie en Rose,’ a song Sanji had picked for his first dance before he was tall enough to ride in the car without a booster seat. Usopp had agreed, so long as they danced with everyone else, claiming he’d rather arrive at the reception in his superhero-print briefs than dance alone with everyone watching. Marriage was all about compromise, after all. 

Sanji feels like he’s spinning for the rest of the night. The quaint, spacious hall is as crowded as All Blue’s opening, but with none of the professional posing. Just laughter and drinks and excited embraces from all the people they give a damn about. The party rages on past midnight, and Sanji’s memory flickers back to their college house parties, trying to charm all the ladies while pretending he didn’t find the nervous, long-nosed eighteen-year-old hovering at his elbow totally adorable. 

Nami approaches him while Usopp’s doing his fourth round of the cha-cha slide with the kids from his hometown summer art camp, now almost in college and all taller than Kaya. She palms the honeymoon suite keys into his hand and lightly kisses his cheek, smelling faintly of the fruity wine they’d given as gifts to the entire wedding party. “I put the directions in your phone. Don’t break the bed on the first night, okay?” 

“No promises,” is all he manages before she pulls him onto the dance floor when the song switches to something less ridiculous. 

Leaving the reception is an even longer process than entering it, but they manage to slip out a side door and get back to the suite to freshen up. Sanji’s so tired, he’s afraid they might not make it to bed, let alone come anywhere close to breaking it. It takes him a moment to register Usopp handing him a long white box. “Oh, is this for our suits?” 

“Not quite.” Usopp rubs the back of his neck. “I uh, got you a little something. As a wedding gift? I know it’s a weird idea because everyone else is getting us gifts, but I couldn’t let the idea go and I really hope you like it!” 

Sanji ignores his rambling, popping the lid open and balking at the white fabric inside. “Usopp-“ 

“It’s not an actual wedding dress.” Usopp flaps his hands as Sanji pulls it out. It’s long and flowing cotton, light enough for summer but long enough to cover his unshorn legs. A lace-like pattern with an opaque slip underneath, gathered high at the waist with an extra shawl of fabric over the shoulders and chest. “Much more practical, you could wear it anytime! I just wanted you to have something nice- I mean your suit is also very nice, but I know you wanted something more like this. So I kinda got Robin to steal your measurements, had Sabo do it super-fast last week and thought maybe you could wear it now that we’re alone?” 

“Sure,” Sanji swallows dumbly. “Thank you, for this, I’ll just- give me a minute.” 

Sanji slips into the bathroom, carefully removing his suit and placing it on a hanger for his lovely groomsladies to retrieve (souvenirs from their honeymoon are definitely in order, after all their hard work today). He avoids the mirror as he slips into the dress. He’s never worn something this formal and feminine before and he’s worried he might look stupid, like a kid playing dress-up. But the fabric feels soft against his skin, hanging on his frame nicely and looking delicate and- nice. He looks nice. 

Or he would if he could get the fucking buttons closed. 

Five minutes of struggling against the limits of his flexibility ends with him wrenching open the door. “Could you fucking do this up for me? I can’t fucking see what I’m doing and the shitty buttons won’t stay closed!” 

“Alright! I’ve got them, jeez.” Usopp looks miffed until Sanji turns around. “No need to be so- oh.” 

Sanji’s face heats down to his neck, grateful their friends are still enjoying the open bar and won’t come barging in. “It was supposed to be a surprise, for tonight.” 

“I saw nothing, absolutely nothing.” Usopp says primly, closing the finicky buttons over the silk camisole and high-waisted lacy knickers before leaning down and lightly kissing the back of Sanji’s neck. “But you look beautiful.” 

Hand-in-hand, they wander away from the hall and up the road along the beach, following the curve as per Nami’s directions. Usopp uses his phone as a flashlight, the darkness only impinged by the party behind them and the distant lights of houses on expansive waterfront estates. “I’m pretty sure this is the beginning of a horror movie. Two newlyweds lost in the middle of nowhere, all defenseless…” 

“We’re not lost.” Sanji rolls his eyes. “She said we couldn’t miss it, and they parked our car there, so just look for that.” 

“Oh, sure. Look for a black car in the woods, he says. We won’t be horribly murdered, he says. Ow!” Usopp laughs, smacking Sanji back and re-linking their fingers. They’re silent for a while, Sanji’s eyes flicking between the light at their feet and his phone, while Usopp flinches at every noise from the surrounding bush. 

A cool breeze blows in off the water, making them shiver. Sanji pulls the tie on his hair loose to cover his bare neck, and catches Usopp smiling doofily at him. They pause for a kiss, as if they haven’t done it a million times today for photos and clinking champagne glasses. Usopp’s still smiling up at him when they pull apart. “Geez, we’re really married. How weird is that?” 

“Very.” Sanji smiles as he feels Usopp reach out and trace the gold and silver bands on his finger. “I’m surprised. I thought it would feel different, but I feel exactly the same.” 

“Me too, but I’m kinda glad.” Usopp risks another soppy look at him as they start walking again. “I want us to always feel like this. Like we’re best friends who kiss and stuff.” 

Sanji shakes his head. “A more romantic sentiment there never was.” 

“Hey, I’ll have you know-“ Usopp stops suddenly and points behind Sanji. “Uh, is that it?” 

Sanji turns, finding a high wrought-iron gate and beyond it, their car and a large oak tree cradling the fanciest goddamn treehouse he’s ever seen in his life. It looks almost as big as their townhouse, with small fairy lights glowing all along the outer railings. 

“When Luffy said he picked out our honeymoon spot, I was concerned for our safety. Now I’m concerned that a thank-you card isn’t gonna cover it.” Usopp says, awe beneath his wry tone. “You’ve got the keys, right?” 

“Y-yeah.” Sanji fumbles with the warm metal in his hands. They close the gate behind them and walk up the cobblestone path. “Fuck, I didn’t think you could actually rent these things. I thought they were just on TV.” 

“Hope it’s been sprayed for termites.” Usopp follows Sanji up the winding staircase, suddenly grabbing his shoulder when they reach the top. “Wait, I gotta do something!” 

“What are you- Oh, you’ve got to be kidding.” Sanji shakes his head as Usopp throws the door open and moves to pick him up. 

“C’mon, I’ve been planning this-“ Usopp gets a good grip on him, one arm under his knees and the other behind his back. “Since before we proposed. It’s for good luck.” 

Sanji sighs in exaggerated annoyance, but loops his arms around Usopp’s neck and lets himself be carried inside, the lights flicking on as they enter the room. 

“Told you I could lift you.” Usopp grunts, setting Sanji on his feet as they admire their surroundings. The living room and kitchen surrounding them wouldn’t be out of place in an expensive home magazine. “Wow, this is way fancier than our place.” 

“That Luffy also lives in, despite being able to afford this.” Sanji finds their suitcases on the couch beside a set of sliding glass doors. He pushes them open and steps onto the balcony as Usopp runs around exclaiming his discoveries. “Hey, come out here for a sec!” 

“There’s a bathtub in there! A big Jacuzzi one-oh, wow.” Usopp joins him at the railing, resting his elbows on it. The tree stands about thirty feet back from a small cliff face, surrounded by thick, tall pines that give way to the edgeless, moonlit water. It looks like they’re standing on the edge of forever. “Now that’s a view.” 

“Definitely needs more than a thank-you card.” Sanji’s voice comes out quiet, the weight of unworthiness sitting on his chilly shoulders again. A kiss pressed against the corner of his mouth brings him back. 

“Whoops, heh, I missed.” Usopp mumbles, angling for a proper kiss. His nose brushes Sanji’s cheek and their arms slide around each other. “Mm, this is the best.” 

“Yeah, pretty romantic choice for Luffy.” Sanji agrees, kissing Usopp’s forehead. “Someone else must’ve given him the idea.” 

“I don’t mean the treehouse.” Usopp laughs, tucking some of Sanji’s hair behind his ear. “This is so much better than anything I ever pictured for myself, I’m really, really happy. Plus, you’re much handsomer than the wish fulfillment OCs I drew in high school.” 

“Goddammit.” Sanji tickles Usopp’s sides to punish him for ruining the moment. But he finds himself staring down at those sweet brown eyes and that wide goofy smile he fell for years ago. They lose themselves for a while, trading kisses and pulling at clothes, touching as much as they can while desire pushes past their exhaustion, until a small firework goes screaming by their heads. 

“ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL US?” They scream in unison at a confused Luffy standing in the field below, achieving old married couple status before they’ve even gone to bed. 

“Don’t set the goddamn tree on fire!” Zoro shouts, disciplining Luffy for them while the others laugh. “If you can’t aim that thing, give it back!” 

“Aw, I just wanted to scare them, let me go!” Luffy wriggles in Zoro’s grip and hollers up at them. “I didn’t see you! You’re ‘sposed to be in bed!” 

“It does take the fun out of it.” Chopper chimes in sadly, holding two frying pans in limp defeat. 

“The hell are you all doing anyway?” Usopp shouts down at them, still on edge from nearly being set ablaze by a Roman candle. “Trying to turn this into a funeral?” 

“Haven’t you ever heard of a chivaree?” Nami calls, waving a noisemaker and sounding proud of herself despite their apparent failure. “It’s a good thing we came, we caught these two-“ she jabs an accusing finger at Robin and Franky, “-trying to elope on us!” 

“Elope?!” Sanji yells. They weren’t even engaged as far as he knew. “Franky, what the hell? Robin deserves better than that!” 

“It was my idea!” Robin calls up, happily pressed to Franky’s side. “We thought we’d spare everyone all the fuss.” 

“Sorry to hijack your wedding, guys!” Franky hollers, not sounding the least bit sorry. 

“More like cheat us out of another party!” Luffy thrashes away from Zoro to shake his fists at them. “Brook, how could you let them get away? Don’t you like wedding cake?” 

“I do, but this was what they wanted!” Brook insists, clutching his own pack of firecrackers. “I couldn’t just turn them down, they had it all planned before you caught them!” 

“Anyway!” Nami interrupts, grinning up at the bemused couple and hoisting a bottle of expensive champagne. “Since we didn’t scare you out of bed, and we’ve got two weddings to celebrate, wanna come down and help us finish this? I’ve been keeping it away from Zoro all night!” 

“If you can stand to keep your clothes on a little while longer!” Vivi adds, laughing heartily. 

Usopp looks at Sanji with a defeated expression and shrugs. “Well, they already bought the fireworks.” 

Champagne and smoke tickle Sanji’s nose as he stands in the dewy grass, passing the bottle back to Nami for another swig. Vivi catches her when her heels stick in the dirt and happily accepts the clumsy smooch pressed to her cheek. Franky whoops with laughter as Luffy and Chopper try to set off multiple cherry bombs at once and only succeed in scaring themselves half to death. Robin smiles endlessly, wisely shielding herself from the attempted pyrotechnics show in the span of his metal arm. Zoro finally gets the sparklers to strike and they’re passed around, hoisted in toast to the happy couples until the sparks burn their hands and Luffy starts dueling Zoro with his. 

Exhaustion burns in his eyes, but Usopp hand stays locked in his, just as it always has. Everyone’s still here, knocking elbows and shouting and hurling firecrackers towards the water. They came together and pulled this off, because he and Usopp wanted it, because they wanted a part in their happiness.   
Sanji kisses Usopp’s forehead, feeling at peace and knowing he’s right where he belongs.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! This was a long time coming and I'm glad to have it up. 
> 
> As per usual, please kindly let me know if I've erred in my representation of trans experiences in this fic. I'm writing from the perspective of a cis/questioning queer woman and while I've definitely inserted my own experiences/thoughts into this piece, I'm happy to acknowledge any mistakes. Usopp isn't meant to represent all transmen, and Sanji isn't meant to represent all questioning/genderfluid/transfeminine folks. Writing one representation means leaving other representations out, but I've written the characters as per my vision of them, and I hope you enjoy them as I do.   
> (Sidenote to the sidenote: I totally cop to turning Usopp into an Author Avatar during Sanji's coming out conversation. My day job is in human services, and I've heard trained professionals who are otherwise competent come out with some real BS about why trans people are trans. It's deeply upsetting to me and I wanted to include that. If your counsellor/therapist/etc. is trying to explain away your identity like that, please seek care from someone else. You deserve to get the help you need while be treated with respect.)   
> Similarly, I haven't experienced PTSD myself, certainly not anything to the level of Sanji's experience. I tried to write from a place of research, observation of friends/family's personal experiences, and empathy. I sincerely hope I did it justice. Sanji goes through a lot of ups and downs and doesn't always say or do the right thing, but ultimately he's a good person who's hurting very deeply. If any of you are in a similar place, know you're also good people and I'm rooting for you <3 Find friends who'll ride the struggle bus with you, or at least be waiting at your stop when you get off. 
> 
> I have a lot of headcanons about this AU that I'd like to turn into mini-fics (later, because damn I just wrote a novella's worth of SanUso fic), so this might not be the last entry in this series. There's a lot of gaps to be filled just in the span of this fic, so who knows! Thanks again for reading, and best wishes to all of you! 
> 
> Shoutout to transpiece and many, many lovely SanUso artists on tumblr, you're all beautiful. Special shoutout to this post by actualanimevillain that inspired me and also got me all choked up: http://actualanimevillain.tumblr.com/post/109433164761/i-feel-like-its-been-a-long-time-since-i-made-a 
> 
> Title is from 'Call Me, Call Me,' because I finished Cowboy Bebop while writing this. 
> 
> Questions are welcome in the comments!


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